


Wormhole

by LadyMuzzMuzz



Series: Navigating the Stars. [11]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Family Fluff, Gen, Into the Spardaverse, Post-Canon, Vergil is an emotional idiot in both worlds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMuzzMuzz/pseuds/LadyMuzzMuzz
Summary: A twenty-five year old Nero takes an...unorthodox path to an Alternate World, and despite it being all the things he's ever wished for, he knows.... there's no place like home.
Series: Navigating the Stars. [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491467
Comments: 165
Kudos: 286





	1. Gaping Maw

**Author's Note:**

> To my new readers, Welcome! I already have the layout to the AU in previous stories, but I hope I kept enough background included to keep you informed if you read it as a stand alone story.
> 
> To my Veteran readers, Welcome Back! I'm glad you're here to join me on another installment, albeit a bit out of this world.....
> 
> A word of warning... this will be a six chapter story, but.... well. I kinda only have three chapters finished. I will attempt to finish the others, but they'll be eventually released after Spardaverse.

“I still don't understand why you required both of us on such a simple job,” Vergil grumbled as he trudged through through the flattened grass of the fenced field. Nero had to agree, dodging a unusually large cow patty. This was the run of the mill demon summoning gone wrong (to be fair, most, if not all of them went wrong. People were idiotic ass holes)

“Oh come on, this is supposed to be a family business, right? What's more family bonding than a good ole' demon summoning party crashing?” his uncle joked, “Besides, the area is a bit big, if we gotta find this demon, it won't take as long if we split up.

“Makes no sense, don't most demons just skedaddle once they do the, you know,” he pointed his thumb at what looked at the partially digested remains of...something “'reward' their summoners?”

“Yeah, that's what I thought, but the owner of this place says that the demon has been making itself at home, and helping itself to the livestock. Looks like it might be European, since it has a preference for horse meat.” Dante responded, pushing the stable door, letting out a rancid smell of decaying flesh impacting them like gust of strong wind. Even his dad's nose twitched as Nero tried desperately tried not to retch. Didn't matter how many of these scenes he'd seen, he'd never get used to them.

“Well, looks like they threw a pretty cool party. Wonder who the guest of honour was?” The sacrificial altar was coated in blood, or at least what remained of it, and the wooden floor, when not covered in guts, was buckled and ridged, as if it had been made into an building sized accordion. Above the scent of rotting viscera, Nero could smell the smell of... fear, no terror. And not just of humans, who as per usual, probably spent their last few moments regretting their life choices, but of animals, who had no choice in the matter. It made him sick to think of these cooped up animals, terrified out of their wits because some douchebags wanted to “Obtain Power” or some other chickenshit reason.

“Weird....” Dante said as he nonchalantly wandered over to the remains of a corpse, their cultist robes (always with the damn robes, did no one summon demons in jeans and a tee-shirt?) soaked in blood, and their neck at an unusual angle. “No weapon marks, not even claw or bite marks. What even they summoned just... made most of them disappear. Any ideas on what we're dealing with, Verg?”

Vergil was busy staring at the remains of the altar, brushing away the dried blood in order to make out the glyphs (and immediately wiping his hand on a handkerchief)

“Hmmm, the script seems to indicate a generic plea to the Underworld. Not asking for the intervention of any particular demon. They look like they didn't have the capability to specifically summon, so they opened a miniature temporary hell gate in order to trap the first demon that walked through. Rudimentary, but resource efficient.” he looked around in distaste “Not that it was effective. As to what came through....” he began looking at the jumble of planks, and the hole that smashed through the rickety barn wall. After a few minutes of intense scrutiny, Vergil.... laughed? His father never laughed, so this was not a good sign.

“The fools...”

“So, what lottery did these guys win? Who's the lucky demon?”

“Not a demon at all, brother... they summoned... a worm”

Nero could sense his uncle deflating. “Wait, all that effort, and all they could get was a worm? Almost feel sorry for the bastards”

“Not just any worm, Dante. A _Chronoskolex._ ”

Nero cocked an eyebrow, “A what?”

“An ancient worm that burrows underground, and feeds on Geryon steeds. Very rare, and by looking at the size of the tracks, very old, perhaps from before father sealed the Underworld away. As the Timesteeds are practically extinct, it probably was unintentionally lured in by the scent of horses, and,” he waved his hand in the direction of the hole. “It is staying here, ravenously hungry, and since it is barely sentient, it merely follows what it thinks is food.”

“That would explain the missing horse issues” Nero mused, “but doesn't 'Chrono' mean time in Latin or something?”

“Ancient Greek, but yes” Vergil continued “Chornoskolex absorb time manipulating power via consuming the steeds, and one of this size would be very powerful. Mundus” he paused, and both Nero and Dante froze. Vergil rarely ever spoke that name, and neither of them liked bringing up that bastard up to him. Nero had found out what his dad had been put through, and while he was still a bit peeved at being kept in the dark by his uncle, he could understand why sometimes. No one wanted to be told that their father was tortured, brainwashed, and had eventually been put down by their closest kin. And even with his physical nightmares gone (Nero even missed the snark of Griffon on occasion), it had been a long and bumpy road, one that was definitely not over.

After a few moments, his father steeled himself, and repeated “Mundus had a herd of Geryon in his possession that were wiped out by such a worm, and he was most...displeased.” He chuckled, allowing both Nero and his uncle relax. If he was able to recall such an event with careful casualness, perhaps he was making progress. Not that it would take the stick out of his ass, but, it was making him more human, a bit at a time. Shame that he wasn't making as much progress on the 'Deadbeat-Dad-trying-to-make-up-to-his-adult-son-for-ripping-off-his-arm' front.

“Mundus sent whole armies to slaughter the beast, but to no avail. The worm devoured them all. And by the time he took to the field, the worm had burrowed, and went into hibernation, making it impossible to find. Mundus, for all his power.... defeated by a worm.”

“Okaay.... thanks for the history lesson,” Dante interrupted, kicking over a the remnants a water trough, “So, the issue is, how are we gonna get the beastie?”

“The Chronoskolex will most likely be patrolling the area. Our world's horses, while similar, are not enough to sustain it. Until it finds a scent leading elsewhere, it will feed here, or go into time-stasis hibernation, so it's best if we follow the tracks before it burrows. To make it easier, we should lay a tra-”

A slight rumble cause the rafters to shake, allowing decades of dust to cascade down upon the men from the barn's rafters. Nero felt the whisper of wind, and a strong arm wrapped around his waist. Next thing he knew was the feeling of the ground at his back as the wind was momentarily knocked out of him. Lifting his head slightly, he made out what _was_ the barn, as it disintegrated, as the shape of a good thirty foot long pale tube of demonic flesh crashed through it, at speeds that should not have been possible for any animal, demonic or not, of that size. Thin tentacles launched out, grabbing planks of wood, carcasses, and...wait, was that Dante? Yup, there was Dante, in all his fiery Sin Devil Trigger Form, dodging tentacles, chopping others, and having a grand old...wait... nope...he just got sideswiped by one of them, launching him a good hundred feet before breaking his fall with a work shed.

Nero got up, shaking himself off of the dirt (and he smelled horseshit...the literal stuff, coming from his jacket... just great) and checked for where Vergil was. His father apparently had realized what was about to happen, and had grabbed Nero before the damn thing had gulped him down. He felt oddly... touched, Vergil rarely went out of his way to do anything for him, cold bastard that he was, maybe V's experiences were making him a bit softer?

No time to ruminate on that, as the Chronoskolex flailed this way and that, its speed increasing and decreasing in rapid cycles, as if it someone was hitting fast forward and slowdown on a DVD remote, albeit on a very smooth frame rate. It seemed to have no idea that the two men were only a fifty feet away from it.  
“So, it's blind...” Nero mused

“Yes, it primarily uses its sense of smell to track prey, with a bit of sensing vibrations while it is underground, if we keep still, it will be ignorant of us, but if Dante attempts to show boat again...”

Without warning, the worm stopped its flailing and arched downward, preparing to burrow back down.

“We cannot allow it to do it again, if it goes into time-stasis, it may be impossible to detect its location for years, perhaps decades.” Vergil said, preparing to attack. But the damn worm would submerge faster than it would take his dad to reach it, and Dante was probably busy picking out weathered wood chunks embedded in his chest.

“Well,” Nero quipped, equipping Ragtime with a satistfying _Kachunk!_ “You're not the only one who can play with time, fish-bait”

And with that, he activated Nico's pride and joy, and all around him, aside from himself and Vergil, time slowed down immensely. “This ought to even the playing field,” he muttered as he revved up Red Queen, and began mentally figuring out where the beasts hypothetical weak points were. It didn't seem to have a 'belly' but the flesh looked relatively soft and could be easily cut. Imagine, the God-Emporer of the Underworld couldn-

Only too late did he realize that the playing field had unfortunately, not evened at all, in fact quite the opposite. Ragtime's effect had worn off, and not because it was a sub par piece of equipment (Nico, for all her boasting, could rightfully claim to make only the best). No, it seemed like it was... overridden? Because instead of burrowing slowly into the ground, the Chronoskolex switched its movements, heading straight to Nero's location, and before he could readjust, two tentacles launched out at super-sonic speeds, grabbing his midsection, and then like a flock of vultures, more latched on.

“D-dad!” he gasped out alerting the elder man, who apparently was caught off-guard, as he was still facing where the damn thing had been just a second or so ago. But as soon as he regained his mental footing, he moved quickly, attempting to at first severing the tentacles, and when there proved too many of them, just grabbing Nero's outstretched hand, the only part of him that wasn't covered by the sticky appendages.

“Hold on Nero!” he ordered, and Nero looked into his eyes, his panic rapidly rising as he continued to be dragged backwards, albeit at a slower rate. For a brief moment, he didn't even recognize his father. Vergil could feel and show emotions, even if very subdued. He'd grin at jokes, frown in annoyance, and smile gently when content. This, though.. this wasn't anything Nero had ever seen.

_Vergil looked terrified._

Both father and son Triggered, for Nero, to attempt to fight off the tentacles, his spectral claws ripping as many tentacles away as possible. For Vergil, to gain more strength with the claws on his feet to stop the inexorable movement into the beasts open maw. But even with their combined power, they merely delayed the inevitable, and Nero could feel the beginning of a familiar pain as his arm was gradually being pulled out of its socket. _Oh look,_ some part of his brain observed _looks like your dad is going to rip off your arm again. Isn't that ironic, as this time he's trying to save you._

“Nero,” even in his distorted voice, he could still hear the fear, so unlike the cool, stoic man he'd just began to get to know. “ _Please don't let go”_

There were two options right now, neither one seemed pleasant. He could let his arm get ripped off again, and swallowed up. Or he allow both himself and his father get swallowed up, leaving Dante behind.

_Or..._

He could just let go. Best case scenario, both Vergil, and Dante when he finally got his ass out of the rubble, could chop the worm up into tiny little pieces and free him. A long lived worm like that wouldn't digest him that quickly, right?

Worst case scenario.... well, he was fucked either way. Best to leave the casualties to a minimum, and not leave Vergil thinking he was at fault, when for once, he wasn't.

His father seemed to read his mind, because instantly the grip tightened, _“Don't you dare...”_

Nero could only give a small chuckle as his spectral arm grabbed Blue Rose, and with quickness that Vergil didn't expect, aimed it point blank at the man, and pulled the trigger.

His father's instincts didn't fail him as he shifted to deflect, lessening his grip, and allowing Nero to wriggle from his grasp.

“Sorry bout this...” he managed to say, and like an elastic band snapping, time sped up, as his now human father's form rapidly shrank into the distance. Nero was tired, all the struggling had sapped all the energy out of him. Shit, he had fucked up... and he was ready to be the only one to pay the price.

  
The toothless jaws closed around him, trapping him in utter darkness, he closed his eyes (not that it would make much of a difference)

  
_I'm sorry Dante....I was an ass to you, when we could have gotten along much better_

_I'm sorry Kyrie....I wasn't a very good boyfriend, getting myself killed like this....I wanted to spend the decades together, not leaving you to pick up the pieces..._

_I'm sorry dad..._

He didn't get much further in his thoughts, because he heard, or rather felt the scream of what sounded like a boy, crying out for his father.


	2. A Father's Lament

Nero hit a brick wall, then rag-dolled down to a broken sidewalk, his bones cracking and healing with a few moments of cascading pain. Outside the sound of this blood pounding through his ears, he couldn't hear anything. He lifted his head, looking around, trying to figure out where he was. He wasn't at the farm anymore, far from it. The smells of gasoline, asphalt, rubber, and the miscellaneous smells of rotting garbage contrasted to the previously 'natural' smells of grass, dirt manure and ....gore.

He looked up and down the deserted street, attempting to figure which city it was. All he could tell, but the dinginess and the rather modern setting, he wasn't in Fortuna. It did feel familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe if he could find a street... _How far had that fucking worm travelled in such a short time? Or wait, maybe it wasn't time, maybe it did that timey-whimey thing?_ There was evidence that the worm had been around, if the buckled pavement was a sign of something other than poor city maintenance. As for time.....it had been mid morning at the farm, and now, by the angle of the sun, it looked like late afternoon. Yeah, the worm had somehow manipulated time so that what seemed to be a hellish moment was actually a few hours. He began checking himself, and found, much to his relief that all his limbs were still around. Red Queen and Blue Rose were accounted for, and even Ragtime had survived the ordeal. _What the hell just happened anyway?_ Had he been deemed unpalatable and spit out? Or.... did he...? _Oh God, please don't say I just came out its other end.._ Just the thought of taking a tour through a demonic time travelling worm's digestive system was enough to make him feel woozy.

His head hit the sidewalk with a leaden thud, and the buildings, and even the sky became blurry. He felt nauseous, but merely the thought of turning his head caused a splitting headache. He closed his eyes to the glare, and took a few deep, calming breaths. All he had to do was relax for a few moments, get his bearings, and find a phone to call Kyrie, or at least Vergil (Dante's phone was probably disconnected.... again).

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the blurry shapes of two people, hopefully well-meaning bystanders hovering over him (although, with his luck today, odds it was a couple of ne'er-do-wells attempting to rob him) Odd, their shapes looked familiar, even though the colours were slightly different. More vibrant, especially the man (he couldn't be certain, but he assumed they were both men, their voices sounded muffled, as if his ears were filled with cotton balls) in brilliant blue.

Finally, a familiar feel of steel at his throat managed to shake off everything, the fog, the muffled sound, even the nausea and headache in an instant. Another blink, and the picture became clear: he was being held a swordpoint by... his eyes followed the blade until he recognized it as _Yamato?_ Which could only mean it was wielded by his ...father.

Nero's eyes shot up to meet Vergil's, to find a man who looked ...different. He looked younger, (although he always seemed to look quite younger than his brother, probably due to the ingestion of the fruit), but more importantly, he had the look of raw emotion on his face, similar to when he last glimpsed his father's face. But what the hell was he doing? Vergil hadn't ever threatened him ever since the fight on the Qliphoth.

“What the hell, old man?” he attempted to brush the blade away, but it held firm, and dug slightly deeper, not yet digging into his skin.

“Heh, he called you old,” the other one quipped (although he could sense some sort of concern in the voice), and Nero was perplexed. Obviously that was Vergil holding him at sword point, but the other man, no... that made no sense. Where was the shaggy haired scruffy old dude that he had only recently found out was his uncle? This guy was clean shaven, less hobo looking, and wait...was that Rebellion on his back?

“ _Where. is. my. son?”_ Vergil asked with barely concealed rage, and Nero supposed that the only reason the trembling blade at the hollow of the throat hadn't slit it was because it was hard to answer questions with severed vocal cords. What the hell was he talking about? Did he not recognize his own goddamn son? Nero could feel a rising tide of fury as yet again, he had been abandoned by his father.

“Really Vergil? Is this some sort of a sick joke? Or did that goddamn worm knock all the sense out of you? “He jabbed a finger at his father, “because I kicked your ass before, I can kick your ass ass again. I'm not gonna let you pretend that you don't recognize your own fucking son. Not again.”

Yamato seemed to teleport back into her saya, if the speed at which he sheathed her was any indication, and Vergil took a startled step back, with a barely audible gasp. His eyes widened, and the voice, once hateful and full of rage turned into something much more vulnerable. Of course, to an outsider, it would appear as if he hadn't changed at all.

“ _Nero?”_

“Yeah, asshole, glad you got it through your thick skull,” Nero said, huffing at the effort it took to get up. Neither man offered a hand. How fucking typical. As he dusted himself off (oh God, Kyrie would kill him for the horse manure he got all over it) he casually looked up to watch the two older men just staring at him, as if he grew a third head.

“What? Is it because of the worm? Look, I don't know how long I was out, or how I got here, but can you two stop gawking already? I need to have to have a shower.”

“He's....a lot older.” Dante muttered to Vergil, his eyes still locked on his nephew “You think that weird ass worm did something to him?”

Had the thing somehow aged him? Nero looked down at his arms, both perfectly smooth, before touching his face, still wrinkle free, with only the fine sandpaper roughness of recently shaved stubble on his cheekbones. What the hell were they talking about? If anything, both Sons of Sparda looked...younger.

“Oh.... Sunshine's going to kill us.....” Dante continued, and he was strangely serious.

“Sunshine?” He'd never heard that nickname before, and his uncle nicknamed every person he came across.

Vergil finally spoke, his voice shaking, totally unlike the man he knew “Your mother... You remember her, right?” he asked, almost pleading.

The base of Nero's spine chilled, and a slow seeping tide of dread rose through his stomach, causing his nausea to return with a dangerous vengeance. Vergil never spoke about her, even when asked, so this made no bloody sense at all.

“My... mother..?”

“Oh shit, he doesn't remember her...” Dante spoke to no one in particular. “Not only did that funky worm age him up when he got sw..”

“Dante, shut up”

“It took his memories when it sha-”

“Dante... **SHUT UP!** ” Several summoned swords materialized, surrounding his uncle, undoubtedly about to skewer him. Dante went into Royal Guard mode to reflect, with one hand hovering over Ebony. Nero had to act fast, to stop the inevitable fight.

“Wait!” he yelled, and both men paused, and turned back to him, their impending duel momentarily forgotten. “How old was I when the worm...uh... attacked?”

“You were twelve, we were taking you home after school, you were helping tutor one of your classmates, David” Vergil said desperately, obviously attempting to trigger a non-existent memory

Nero took a step back, both hands up in a defensive posture. “Okay, okay. This is fucking weird. Look, I don't know what happened, but I'm not the kid you're looking for.” He could barely make eye contact with Vergil, who seemed to crack at that. “I-I just got into a tussle with that worm a few moments ago, at a farm. I'm twenty five. And..” how to say this as tactfully as possible? “I swear I didn't know either of you until recently. I met Dante when I was nineteen, and I only met you a year or so ago.” He might have well just stabbed Red Queen through Vergil's heart, if the crestfallen look on his face was any indication.

“Look, you- I mean my father, said it was some sort of time warping worm, something called a 'Chronoskolex' so I just assumed it transported me forward through time by a few days. Not,” he waved his hands to the surrounding area, “dumped me several years back in time in an... alternate universe?”

“But...my son, Nero?” Vergil almost begged, and Nero resisted the urge to wince at the thought that he was talking about someone else “What happened to him?”

“Was he...” oh boy, this was gonna be a doozy to say, “taken by the worm?” Vergil nodded numbly. “I think, I mean I hope, that he's just in my world, like we switched places or something. Last thing I remember before ending up here was kinda feeling a ... presence rushing by me, like we were two ships passing in the night.” He wasn't going to say anything about the voice crying out for their father, Vergil didn't look like he could take much more.

Vergil looked like he was going to buckle at the weight of the information, but his brother was there to support him. “Hey... hey,” Dante said, attempting to be the sturdy emotional pillar “We'll get him back, I promise. If he's on the other side, there's gotta be a way to get him back.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Vergil. “Let's bring him home, I'll pull up whatever contacts to find that worm... you can see if there's any instances of this happening before, you're good at all that research stuff, right?”

Dante being the responsible one was quite a shock, but it was a shock they all needed, as Vergil numbly nodded, and with one ~~tormented~~ glance at Nero, he turned to go... home.

Nero wasn't sure what to do. Should he follow? It wasn't his home. But his mother? He'd always wanted to meet her, to demand why she'd abandoned him. But in this timeline, she hadn't abandoned him, had she? She'd kept him, and evidently loved Vergil. So his anger would be misplaced, and besides, would she even want to see him? Would she see him as a pale imitation of her boy like Vergil did? But...

“Come on kid,” Nero was startled by a heavy hand slapping on his back. Dante had a sympathetic smile on his face “let's just get ourselves into a familiar setting, that'll get us in a better mental state,” he cocked his head “uh, I just hope I live the same place that I do in your world”

“Devil May Cry? Redstone building with a tacky neon light?” Nero questioned, and Dante's face lit up as bright as the logo “Oh, good, we have something in common! And what do you mean tacky?! I specifically commissioned it from a renowned glass worker!”

Nero chuckled. It looked that Dante was pretty much the same as his older counterpart, but his attitude was more...genuine. He began following the blue figure, who was rapidly disappearing into the distance. “I honestly shouldn't say anything, you gave me my very own neon sign for my part of the business”

“That's fuck-fricken great, you joined the family business! I bet your uncle was over the moon when you did that.”

_I have no idea what he felt, he never told me I was joining a 'family' business,_ he thought, but he kept it to himself. This whole family seemed totally different. Had something happened, a fork in the road that caused these changes?

“Let's get you home and cleaned up,” Dante said, oblivious to his turmoil, “You smell like horsesh- I mean manure”

“You know you don't have to watch your language? I'm twenty five years old”

“Look, kid, habits die hard”

******

Nero was pleasantly surprised that Devil May Cry was still in the same location. Same dingy street, same dented commercial sized trash container on the side, and yes, same flashing neon light. But once he entered inside, it was like entering a whole new world, like entering a wardrobe, and coming across a talking lion.

It was... clean. His uncle's place, even with his father's nagging these past few months, always seemed dingy, with stray cobwebs, magazines that would make Kyrie blush, and the ever present smell of stale pizza that embedded itself in everything like third-hand smoke. Here, there were clean couches, tidy bookshelves, and a distinct lack of weapons and trophies on the wall. There was still the jukebox and the pool table But the place smelled like...clean. Like Kyrie. Just the thought of her caused tears to threaten to erupt, and he refused to do that. Not here, not in front these people who looked like his family, but weren't.

“Vergil?” a feminine voice rang out from the kitchen, and Nero froze. “I was wondering why you were late, Al-” it was cut off with a sharp gasp, and he spun around to come face to face with a woman. There was an interminable awkward silence as both of them stared at one another.

Nero attempted to search her face for some resemblance, something, anything. He'd inherited his father's hair and eyes, of course, but he'd hoped to have some of his mother features that Kyrie always complimented him on. But nothing, her cheeks weren't shaped like his, her chin was totally different, her brows were angled differently, and even her nose... no, she seemed to have nothing in common with him. His heart sank, although he wasn't sure why. Why seek validation from a woman who never wanted him in the first place, even her alternate universe counterpart?

She made the first move. “Nero?” she tenativley asked, and took a step towards him. Instinctively, he drew back, to keep his distance, and his heart broke at her crestfallen expression as she stopped. “What happened?”

“We...we experienced an attack while on the way home from school,” Vergil explained, keeping his eyes fixed on his wife, refusing to make eye contact with Nero. “And while it's difficult to explain...this isn't... this isn't...” he had trouble speaking, so Dante managed to pick up the slack, “we seemed meet up with a nasty piece of time-warping demonic garbage that well... um... switched our Nero... with an alternate version of him?” He shrugged, and gave out a sheepish grin. She switched her gaze from Dante, back to Nero, and he felt like he had been placed under a giant ass microscope. She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed, and then attempted to say something else. Nero knew exactly what she wanted to say, but couldn't.

“He-he doesn't know you...” Vergil said hesitatingly, so unlike his rather confident self. Was he like this in this universe? Or was it just the shock of this whole situation? Dante, to his credit, was acting the same, but there was a familiar tenseness that Nero hadn't felt since his uncle had chucked himself off the Qliphoth to cut the tree down.

“But what about our Nero, Vergil, what about _our_ son?” There was a flash of an accusation, which caused caused Vergil to wince. _Vergil actually winced._ If the situation wasn't so serious, he'd savour it. To think, that this woman had such power over her husband.

“I think I can answer that,” he was taking over, before everything got too emotionally charged. “I'm pretty sure that your son ( _God that hurt to say)_ is in my universe. And my father” (and now he could have sworn Vergil flinched out of the corner of his eye) “was there so he's perfectly safe.” Okay, he was winging it on that part, but he had to think positive. For everyone's sake. He was rewarded by a look of relief on her face.

“Well, as long as he's safe....” she said, trying to catch on to his optimism, “we'll find a way to bring him back, I'm sure of it. And get you back to your family, we just nee-”

“DAAAAADDDY!” The sound of bare feet pattering on hardwood floors “Today we saw baby chicks!” and a blur of white ran past the adults, straight to Vergil's arms. The man clutched the child as if she was about to be ripped from his arms.

“Daddy! You're squishing me!” she complained loudly, and after she had wriggled free, she looked around and asked “Where's Nero, I wanna show him pictures of the chicks! They had a big warm red light!” And then her eyes fell on him, and he was transfixed.

She definitely had a combination of her father's and mother's looks. The hair and eyes were Vergil's to a T. (apparently Sparda's genes were strong in that department), but her nose and cheeks definitely came from her mother. And other features seemed to come from unknown relatives. Hell, he could see some himself in her...his...sister.

_I have a little sister.._

No, he corrected himself, he didn't have a sister, this was just a facsimile of his world, a 'what if' comic that the convenience stores in the tourist areas of Fortuna sold. But man, did he ever want to call her his sister.

Her eyes got as big as saucers as she stared at him. But unlike the adults in the room, her reaction was extremely positive.

“NEEEEROOO!” she screeched, and before he could react, she launched herself at him, as fast as she did to her father. “You got big! Like, super duper big!” she squeezed him tightly, and gingerly he placed his arms around her. He couldn't help it.

“Your glowy arm is gone!” she sounded heartbroken “How can we read stories in the dark when your glowy arm is gone!?”

“It's... kinda hard to explain” how to make sense of this to a little kid, when he could barely explain it to himself.

“Alexandra,” Vergil's voice seemed to regain its lost steadiness “Go play in your room now,”

“But...”

“Now, the adults need to talk” Vergil's eyes softened, “I will join you later, and you can tell me about your day at school”

She still protested by looking towards her mother, as if the woman had some veto power over everyone.

“Alex, your room...now. I'll call you for supper” The girl put an impressive imitation of Vergil's frown, but eventually grumbled up the stairs, dragging her feet all the way. Holy smokes, she was so much like him...

“So.... I got a sister here, huh..” Nero rubbed the back of his neck, “Wow... not sure what to say.”

“There seems to be quite a bit to unpack,” Vergil responded, still a bit disoriented by the day's events “if we can start by figuring on what we have going on, perhaps we can...resolve this.” He made his way to the couch, followed by his younger brother.

“I'll make some tea, conversation flows better when the tea flows,” she said, and Nero recognized the old Fortuna saying. So, she was from Fortuna.... that was a detail he tucked into his brain, as he slowly sat down on the (surprisingly tidy) armchair.

“So,” Dante said. “Let's get to know each other, figure out what's the same, and...” he glanced down to Nero's human arm. “what's different, you wanna go first, kid?”

Nero took a deep breath, and as the fragrant smell of tea drifted through the house, he unfolded his tale...


	3. Tea and Pancakes and What if's....

Even in the near darkness of the early morning, Nero's demonic eyes could still make out the time on the antique grandfather clock. Half past three in the morning. But he wasn't remotely tired. He'd spent most of his life thinking it was just his nature to only need three or four hours of sleep, but now, with his new found family, a lot more made sense. The rapid healing, the eyesight, the ability to 'sense' demons, and his energy levels.

Although, after the previous night's revelations, it would be hard for him to sleep, even if he was a narcoleptic. They'd backtracked the timeline, trying to figure out what had caused the divergence. And finally, after comparing their pasts (although for Nero, his version was all second hand knowledge from his uncle and father).

That moment, that one thing that changed _everything?_ The incident, that probably happened when Nero was probably had just been settling into his new crib at the orphanage?

_Vergil had chosen grab his brother's hand, instead of falling into hell._

That was it, that was the missing nail, the road not taken, the butterfly's wing that caused the hurricane. Such a simple act, for Vergil to set aside his pride for just one moment, one crucial second, and everything had changed. Was it for the better? Well, for Vergil, most definitely. No torture, no enslavement, and none of the stuff that had led the whole incident a year (in his universe) ago.

As far as this world's Nero...well, if you had asked Nero if he could go into a world where he was loved and wanted from nearly day one, he'd have said yes in a heartbeat. But now.... there was no Kyrie's angelic smile, no Credo's subtle approval, not even Nico's wisecracks, as much as she loved to bug the hell him. There was no chance of meeting Kyle, Julio, and Carlos. He missed the small suburban house they called a home, the smell of van seats soaked in cigarette smoke, the sound of her voice singing...

God, this was the worst time to start thinking of this shit. He WOULD find a way back, but for now, he couldn't afford to ruminate on things. So, he distracted himself by picking up a random book of the bookshelf. It was probably going to be a book of poetry or something educational, that seemed more Vergil's style.

But as he opened it up, he realized that nope, it wasn't a book of prose or poetry. No, it was a photo album. Nero felt the urge to shove it back into the shelf, he didn't want to pry into a life he'd never known, a life he wasn't supposed to know. But a peek inside was enough to take it back to the couch, turning his right arm into his glowing night light, he went through the pictures. There was one where an infant Nero was passed out on the chest of a equally passed out Vergil, one where a toddler Nero, dressed in an enormous snowsuit, aided Dante in pushing a snowball to put on top of another one. (Dante for some reason, neglected to wear a shirt, despite the no doubt freezing temperatures), another one where Lady was taking a selfie of herself and a preschool Nero in front of a T-rex museum skeleton. Odd, there didn't seem to be any photos of Nero with his mother...

But there was one that really attracted his eye. A young Nero, sitting at his father's side, while Vergil read from book with an incredibly familiar brown cover. _V's book._ Both of them seemed so content, so at peace.

No wonder Vergil would have nothing to do with him after their discussion the previous night. He wasn't his son, and their lives were so drastically different. He'd watched Vergil's face twitch as he recalled what his Uncle had told him of what happened after his father had fallen into Hell. The agony of slavery, the mercy kill (his father never blamed his uncle for that, despite Dante's guilt) Then as he spoke of the loneliness of his childhood, Vergil had kept his eyes averted, unable to make eye contact with him. And then the Qliphoth incident, the untold casualties, and as he recalled his arm being ripped off, Vergil's face went almost as pale as his hair, and it looked like he wanted to flee the room. And so he did, almost warping out of the room and locking himself in his study after the end of the conversation. From then on, for the rest of the night, he only caught glimpses of the man.

It wasn't all bad, Dante seemed to get over his shock of the situation easily enough, and almost sounded like his 'real' uncle as they spoke over dinner. He'd asked how his business was going, asked about his weapons, and was especially impressed by Red Queen.

Alex seemed to be the most at ease with Nero, the four year old babbled over a quick dinner about school, all with the gusto only a four year old could express. For all intents and purposes, she considered him as some sort of bigger grown up brother, a totally separate sibling. She wanted to know all kinds of things about him, his favourite colour, favourite food, if he had a girlfriend (and when he said he did, she mock gagged and said 'eeeeew') Nero was quickly growing fond of her, with her generous smile, friendly attitude, and bubbly demeanour he couldn't help but being more positive.  
Her mother... well she was obvious where Alex got her friendliness from, but there was a hint of tenseness in how she interacted with him. He couldn't really blame her, she was probably worried half to death for her son, and she was trying her best to remain cordial with him.

 _Ah, there she was,_ he finally found a picture of her, with him dressed as a ... giant cat? Must be a a Halloween costume. She hadn't said anything, but her mannerisms, her conservative style of dress, her little sayings, all indicated a Fortunan upbringing. So that was confirmation of his theory of where his mother came from, as for the rest... he'd have to ask her later on. His father had been coy on the subject when he asked about his mother, almost embarrassed, and only said something along the lines of 'she was not worthy of you'. Which was odd, since Vergil and his wife here seemed to get along like a house on fire.

A soft rustle of cloth distracted him, and taking his eyes off the album, he saw the shining blue eyes of a precocious four year old staring at him.

“Your arm is back!” she whispered loudly in awe, “I thought you lost it”

“Yeah, I can put it away when I don't need it” Nero chuckled, and with a small _fwuchunk,_ it dematerialized, leaving behind a perfectly normal looking human arm.

“Woooooah”, she responded dumbfounded as she looked at him with unabashed amazement. “That was... awesome! I can't wait until I get my own Devil Arm!”

Nero snickered, grateful that this girl was taught to embrace her heritage, not shunned like he was. Part of him was jealous that she got a family that loved her with such ferocity, to not fear who she was, but when he looked at her smile, he realized that no, she deserved a loving family just as much as his counterpart did.

“Hey Big Nero!” she poked him, “wanna have a tea party?”

“Alex, it's four in the morning.”

“I can't sleep much, so Mommy and Daddy let me play in my room, as long as I'm quiet” she smiled, “I'm bored, and I can show you my room!”

Nero sat up and stretched, and got up to put the album back in the bookshop, before following the child up the stairs

*****

_I must look ridiculous_ Nero though, while wearing a wide brim yellow hat and a pink feather boa, sitting on a chair that barely (he hoped) supported his weight. And yet, he didn't mind it at all.

“Would you like some more tea Mr. Big Nero?” she asked in a faux posh accent.

“Uh, yes please..” he passed the plastic cup to her, and she poured in a invisible amount from a light blue teapot.

“And you Miss Spikey?”, she turned to a well loved stuffed sabre tooth tiger, and after a pause for her to answer, poured her a cup as well.

“This is fun! Little Nero doesn't ever want to do that with me anymore, he says 'it's too booooring'” she exclaimed as she sipped her non-existent tea. He doesn't want to hang out with me anymore, he wants to hang out with his friends all the time, or practicing fighting with Daddy.” Vergil's trademark frown took over her face. It was frankly adorable on such a small child. “I want to join in, but Daddy won't let me...”

“Because you're a girl?”

“No, because I'm too little!” she pouted, slamming her teacup down, no doubt splashing the invisible liquid all over the table. “I can hold a sword, but Daddy and Uncle Dante keep telling me I have to get bigger.”

“Well, you should focus on getting bigger before you tackle something dangerous”

“Not you too!” she whined, and hung her head. “I just want get as strong as little Nero and Daddy, that way I can protect everyone!” her frown turned into a piercing determined ferocity.

“Hey, hey,” Nero tried to calm her down. “You want to get stronger, that's a good thing, but that takes time, and you deserve to be a kid, to have tea parties, and have fun. You know,” he raised up his plastic cup, “stuff like this, and....” he looked around at the piles of stuffed animals, action figures, and... ribbons?

She followed his eyes and her demeanor changed, “Oh, do you braid? Little Nero taught me to braid, he's really good at it! He can even do my hair better than mommy! Can you braid?”

Nero hesitated. With Fortuna's strict gender roles, something like that, even for nonconformist extraordinaire Nero, meant he hadn't ever tried anything like that. He could braid Kyrie's hair in a basic way, but that was as far as he had gone. So when he shook her head, her eyes lit up, and she quickly brought the ribbons. “First you use this ribbon and place it over....”

******

Nero watched the ever shrinking figures of Vergil and Alex as they left for school. She was skipping along with her bright orange backpack, while her father walked in his usual stoic way. She had whined that she wanted to stay and 'play with Big Nero' but her parents had been adamant. Vergil insisted that he would take her, while Nero got his newly laundered clothes back on, she grumbled as she had her breakfast, got her coat and shoes on, and gave her mother a kiss goodbye. (she wanted to stay home, with all the excitement going on, but Vergil had insisted she needed to go)

The man himself, in contrast to his daughter, barely acknowledged his presence, preferring to look anywhere but in Nero's direction. But when Vergil thought he wasn't looking, Nero could feel his gaze, and could almost catch him in the corner of his eye. He was getting sick of it, but he wasn't going to make a scene in front of Vergil's family.

So, instead he forced himself to remain calm as he watched them turn the corner. Behind him, he could hear Vergil's wife clattering pans, and humming softly as she cooked up something. While he was hesitant to interact with her, he needed get over his own ego, and sit down and chat. She at least was making an attempt at being friendly, unlike Vergil.

“Nero!” he heard her voice call, “I made breakfast, would you like some?” His stomach rumbled in agreement, and he made his way to the kitchen. There, on the table with a bottle of maple syrup, and a bowl of blueberries, was a plate of a trio of thick fluffy flapjacks. The smell was intoxicating. “I wasn't sure what you like on your pancakes, but I managed to hide the blueberries from your uncle, if you'd like them.”

As she washed the frying pan and the mixing bowl, Nero dug into the pancakes like a starving man, savoring the taste. It tasted so familiar, it almost brought a tear to his eye, it tasted like the pancakes that they would serve at...

“The orphanage taught me this recipe, I loved having them as a child, and it was always a tasty treat when I made it for the children.

Nero's head snapped up, confused. She worked at the orphanage? But why had he never seen her in his world? _And why would she give him up?_

“Nero?” her voice cut into his thoughts.

“I-I didn't know you worked at the Orphanage,” he said, focusing more on using his fork to cut the syrup soaked pancakes.

“Oh yes, I was raised there, and I chose to take care of the children when I came of age, to hopefully give them a life where they were wanted and loved to the best of my ability. I wanted to do the same for you when you were dropped off, but...”

The fork hit his plate with a heavy _CLINK_ splattering a bit of syrup, and causing the blueberries to fly a few feet off the table.

“Nero,” she asked, dropping the drying cloth on the floor, momentarily forgotten. “are you alright?”

“Wait, I was dropped off?”

“Yes, you were so adorable, and I fell in love with you the moment I saw you”

“Oh” he felt a strange combination of relief, and dejection. Vergil's wife wasn't his mother, wasn't the one that abandoned him, to the contrary, treated him as if she was he was her own. But that still left the identity of his birth mother unknown, and the fact that he had no memory of this woman. If the time-lines only diverged when Vergil grabbed Dante's hand, it shouldn't have affected...

_Oh_

_Oh no..._

“I just assumed you were my birth mother” he filled the uncomfortable silence. She smiled and and sat down beside him.

“Sadly, I'm not....” her soft smile changed to worried frown, “I hope I'm not a disappointment”

He put up his hands defensively. “No, totally not! I just...” no, it wouldn't be kind to ask about that woman. Best to leave that to Vergil, or his father (once he got back, he KNEW he would get back). “How did you meet Vergil?” he asked, in an effort to change the subject.

“Oh, it was romantic in hindsight” she smiled as she picked up the towel, “we both didn't know it at the time, took us almost six years” she wiped up the splattered syrup “There was a demon attack on the Orphanage, and”

_Oh_

“I had managed to get you out of the fire but we became separated from the rest of the group” a flash of a frown appeared, but then disappeared, “unfortunately the demons found us”

_Oh no_

“But out of nowhere, like a knight in shining armour, your father showed up and saved both of us from us from certain death.”

_Nononononono_

“He was rather... cold when we first met, almost didn't want to hold you. But I think the first moment he realized you were his son, he wouldn't let you go.” her lovely smile deepened. And he practically begged to take you with him. And I assume your father in your universe isn't known for begging either...Nero, is something wrong?”

Everything seemed a bit blurry to him, and he chuckled humorlessly as he stared at his fork, still spearing a piece of the the pancake. “You know, when I was just a kid, when I was being a pain in the ass, Mother Juliana would tell me a story, a story that there was a demon attack on our Orphanage, and that one of the Sisters died to protect me” He neglected to mention the fact that sometimes the crotchety old hag mentioned that she was 'one of the weird ones'. “I always thought she was bullshitting this story, to guilt trip me into behaving, because after all... after all, who would want to lay down their life to protect a white haired whores-son?” Breathing was becoming difficult to him. He finally looked up, to see her eyes, newly glassy from the revelation. “But it was all true....you tried to save me.... and because Dad wasn't there...you..” he couldn't finish the sentence. In his timeline, there would be no woman that would make his father feel whole, no possibility of a smiling little half sister....

A gentle hand lay upon his own. “I... I assume, that she and I were of the same mind at that moment, and I hope.. that I can speak for her when I say that she'd be happy that you're living, strong, with friends and family that love you.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “And that even though it cost her life, she'd do it again, to keep you safe. Because that moment, I was ready to die to keep you safe. I suppose the only thing she regrets,” she wiped her eye with the clean part of the towel, “was that she wasn't there to be there for you, to shield you from the cruelties of people. I knew what it was like, to be called a whores-child”

“It wasn't all bad,” Nero admitted, “I had a few friends I could rely on, (a flash of Kyrie's face appeared in his mind, as well as Credo, standing seriously in his perfect white and gold uniform) and when I joined the Order” another momentary frown flashed on her face, “it instilled in me some sort of discipline...well, a little. I would have left Fortuna the moment I turned sixteen if it wasn't for the peo-”

He cut himself off, before spinning his head to see where the faint sound had come from, the slightest rustle of fabric. He managed to catch a flash of blue, before it vanished up the stairs, and all he could hear was the sound of a door softly closing. How long had he been listening? Nero hadn't even heard him come back.

He turned back to her, watching her face fall. “He's not-”

Nero cut her off with his hand. “Look, I get it it, you don't have to make excuses for him. He wants his son back, and I'm just a reminder that I'm not him. Can't say I blame him...” he looked back at his half eaten pancakes, and despite him being starving just a few minutes ago, he didn't have an appetite at all.

“Look,” he said getting up, “I gotta clear my head for a bit... I'm gonna just go for a walk” he pushed in his chair and glanced down to his plate. “Good pancakes though, I'll just eat them later...” and he ~~stomped~~ walked out, and somehow managed to not slam the door leaving the place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! After reading all your wonderful comments, I realized that a majority of you are looking forward to Canon!Vergil reaction to a preteen Nero appearing out of nowhere. Unfortunately, this story is part of a series where I've focused more on the AU.
> 
> But I WILL be working on a spin-off story....from Canon!Vergil's POV. Because the ideas you've given me are beginning to sprout.
> 
> And if you would like a more fully fleshed version of the tale that Nero's 'mother' told, check out the first three chapters of my first story of the series, Polaris.  
> Edit: Does anyone want a cute Dadgil picture I commissioned that shows up in this story? Too bad! Here [it](https://queenmuzz.tumblr.com/post/190677971135/bumping-because-its-in-a-scene-of-my-latest) is. (feel free to follow me on Tumblr as well, for DMC and other misc content). The artist is the wonderful [Ren](https://twitter.com/deviI_trigger), who is currently also drawing a comic for Spardaverse, check them out!


	4. Sticking together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. My brain demanded that I start up not one...but TWO AU's, instead of working on the one I ought to have.

Two nights later, things hadn't really changed. His sister was as bubbly as ever, dragging him this way and that, and now their tea parties/braiding lessons were a regular thing. His mother was an expert at making sure his stomach was full, with a knowledge of Fortunan cooking, (he was suspicious that she was making them especially for him) that was on par with Kyrie's.

And then there was Vergil, always locked up in his study. At this point, it was better this way, because if the asshole ever decided to actually speak to him, he'd most likely punch him in the face. He didn't think he could have had a more annoyingly emotionally constipated dad than his father, but man, was he ever wrong.

Dante had finally returned, empty handed. It was as if the worm had just vanished into thin air, although Nero knew that it was probably in some state of hibernation. It really, really sucked. And even if they found the fucking thing, what would they do? Kill it? Capture it?

“Jeesh kid, can you stop glowering? You're going to end up looking like your dad at this rate, and I can only deal with one grouch in my place at once.” Dante leapt over the back of the nearby couch, swinging his legs up to lounge like an sexy artistic model. (At least he was wearing a shirt... he'd seen a lot of photos in that damn album where Dante just refused to wear anything but his overcoat on his torso). Nero gave him a glare, which just made the man laugh. “Looks like it's too late. You know,” swinging his legs down, “Let's do something I been wanting to do for a long time, but your dad would have killed me if I tried”

Nero's interest was piqued... What could possibly be so nefarious? The man in red jumped up and headed to the kitchen, Nero went to follow, but Dante yelled as he opened the fridge, “Just meet me out on the fire escape balcony!” Nero shrugged, at least this version of Dante actually had a working fire escape.

*****

“Yup, this is the life...finally get to share a drink with my nephew, and Verg can't skewer me, since you're not underage anymore.” Dante said as he took a swig straight out of the bottle of whiskey before passing the bottle to Nero, who likewise did the same. This was the good stuff, not some cheap ass crap his uncle had. (the cola and glasses where they were supposed to mix lay forgotten on the side.) “Yeah...I figured this was a special occasion, might as well open the limited edition shit.” Dante continued.

The amber concoction burned Nero's throat, but it cleared his mind. Better to feel the pain in his gut than the pain in his heart right now.

“So,” Dante said, taking the bottle back and chucking back another gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand “you gave us the basics about your life a few nights ago... but you never told me how _we_ met. I mean, it couldn't have been a coincidence that I just _happened_ to run into my own nephew”

“Oh it was totally planned, but not in the way you think” Nero said, his mind becoming pleasantly numbed around the edges. “You were being lured to Fortuna, so they could capture you, and use you to power this giant ass statue. Although,” he said as he accepted the bottle back and took another swig. “I think they changed their plans dramatically when you showed up in the middle of a sermon of Sanctus, uhh our version of the Pope, and shot him at point blank range.”

“Holy shit... that does sound like something I'd do back in the day...”

“Technically, you were older than what you are now....”

Dante grimaced, as if he had been reminded of something embarrassing he had done as a teenager. “Sheesh... so you said that's how we met?”

“Yup,” Nero passed the bottle back, and watched as Dante took a very, very deep drink. “Although you met me feet first because I dropped kicked you in the face”

“Damn, you were that pissed off I killed off Santos?'

“Sanctus,” Nero said, taking the bottle back, “And nope, I thought you were a crazy hobo who didn't know how to dress, and you looked like you were threatening my girlfriend.” He took just a sip this time, he didn't want to overindulge.

“Hey now....” Dante pouted. “At least you apologized after you found out I was your uncle, right?”

“Yeah.... about that...” Nero grimaced, this was going to be a bit.... difficult. “You never told me, and for once it wasn't because you were dumb or anything.... You just didn't want to.”

“Whaaaat? That doesn't sound like me at all, I would have loved discovering that I have a new family. Hell, I was willing to put up with your dad's ass just so I could be an uncle to you.”

“I mean,” Nero clarified, “I think you really wanted to... you gave me hints that we were related... you let me keep my dad's sword, you let me into your family business, but you never said anything to me, to Kyrie...” Nero felt bad looking at his uncle's face crestfallen face. “If what I've heard is right, you felt... guilty. Like all behind the jokes you made, you thought it would be better that way....better to be annoying to your nephew than to risk him hating you because you killed his dad. Not,” he pointed with the spout of the whisky bottle, “that I ever hated him for that, even after I found out the truth. I was more pissed off that he kept me in the dark, like he couldn't trust me to make the right decision.”

“Ah... I see what he was thinking, although,” Dante grabbed the bottle back. “That shit would have scrambled anyone's thinking up. And as much as Verg can piss me off, I don't think I could have killed him, and remained relatively sane.” Another deep drink, and to Nero's amazement, Dante flicked the cap back on. His uncle tended to drink any bottle of alcohol empty, no matter how large or strong it was (although, come to think of it, he hadn't seen his uncle drink at all since he had returned from the Underworld).

“Yeah, when I finally got it explained to me. I was still pissed at both of you, but I… I think I understood. Or maybe… maybe it was because I wanted a family that badly, that I’d take a dented family that could be fixed.”

“Shit,” his uncle said, “have you talked to your dad- I mean this version of your dad about this? It would probably put his mind at ease. That little conversation we had a few nights ago messed him up real bad. Would do him good to know that you don’t hate him, even when your version of him was a piece of work”

Nero barked out a mirthless laugh “Yeah, that ain’t happening any time soon. He hasn’t said a word to me since then, just locks himself in his study, doing God knows what.”

“You haven’t tried talking to him?” Dante said incredulously.

“What’s the point? It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want to talk, and besides” Nero said as he walked back inside, “I’m used to being ignored.”

*****

It was the weekend, and both his mom and Uncle Dante were out. His mother was operating her bookstore business, and his uncle was 'Checking out some leads', leaving Nero with Alexandra, who was still teaching him how to braid ribbons. Oh and Vergil, who still had himself locked in his study.

“I'm booooored,” his sister grumbled, after getting exasperated at yet another attempt to teach his bumbling fingers to weave the tiny strands together. She rested her hand on her chin, thinking hard, before her eyes lighted up. “We should go to the park!”

Nero took a good look at the time. There was still a few hours before his mother would come home, and who knows how long it would be before Dante would get back. And really, in his experience, there was nothing more annoying, or destructive than a bored four year old, so... yeah, it was time to get some fresh air. The only issue was, he'd have to ask Vergil about it, and he wasn't really looking forward to that. Despite what his uncle had encouraged, he really didn't want to talk to the guy, and Vergil definitely didn't want to talk to him, always holed up in that study, so they were at a stalemate.

He slowly walked up the steps as Alex put on her shoes and coat. The study door was closed, no fucking surprise. It loomed like some ancient tomb door for some pulp horror movie, and if he disturbed it, a horrific monster would break out. Which was completely ridiculous. His father, for being a standoff jerk, didn't seem the type to attack for being disturbed, let alone a Vergil who seemed to be a loving husband and father. Besides, even if he did, Nero would just kick his ass again.

One last pause at the door (Vergil must have sensed him outside), and Nero gave three rapid knocks, and without letting the man answer said, “I'm taking Alex to the park, the one that's a few blocks away, that okay with you?”

A few uncomfortable moments of silence later, he heard Vergil's voice softly answer. “Very well”

Despite the distance between them, it did give Nero a warm feeling to be trusted enough to take Vergil's child out on his own.

He grabbed his coat, and after helping his sister with her zipper, and checking she had her shoes on the correct feet, they headed out, Alex skipping happily, oblivious to the tension between the two men.

******

“Higher Nero, higher!” his sister squealed in pleasure, as he pushed her as hard as he felt it was safe to do so, and she shrieked as she swung through the air.

“Be careful, kid... don't let go”

“I know!” her sentence was punctuated by pauses as she swung forward “Daddy told me.... that little Nero... tried that.... broke his arm...so I won't.... do that because....I'm smarter!”

He chuckled, “alright, you ready to do it on your own?”

“Yeah... legs in front.... then legs in back!” she spent a few swings getting the hang of it, before triumphantly getting the rhythm.

“Nice! You got it!” Nero rolled his aching shoulders, “I'm gonna take a break for a few minutes,” he thumbed towards a bench. “I'll be right there, you have fun!” And he walked over, and practically collapsed on the bench. Sure, wrangling three kids with Kyrie was exhausting (and he was hoping she was doing fine without him NOPE NOPE WE ARE NOT THINKING ABOUT THAT), but they were just plain old humans. A quarter demon like himself, Alex seemed to be an infinite fountain of energy, one that even he couldn't ever keep up with. There had been a dozen rounds of hide and seek, two dozen slide rides, and nearly a half hour of teeter-totter. Nero collapsed onto the bench, wondering how the hell her family dealt with it all. (And his grandma, man, she had to take care of twins by herself!) It also explained why he was such a troublemaker as a kid, he had just assumed it was that he was just 'born bad' like the Sisters would mutter under their breath, but it was yet again his demon blood, constantly demanding to move, to do _something._

“Such a sweet energetic child,” an elderly lady sat down on the far end of bench, her little bichon frise dog jumping in her lap. “It's been a long time since I had the pleasure of chasing after one of the young ones, with my children and grandchildren all grown up, and I'm not able to keep up with the great grandchildren. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Yeah, she's ... special.” Nero responded. It still felt weird that he had a sister. Had she been alive in his world she would have been around seventeen, and if she was anything like him at that age, she would have been a shit stirrer of the highest order... Kyrie would have loved her (STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT).

“Is this your first child?” the woman smiled, and Nero blinked for a second.

Without really thinking he blurted, “What? Oh, she's not my kid, she's my sister... uh half-sister to be honest. Just taking her out to burn off that excess energy.”

The woman's smile collapsed into a far too familiar frown. They were a dime a dozen on Fortuna, although less so nowadays.

“Oh...” and her hand gripped slightly tighter on her dog's leash. “Same father?”

Nero didn't like how this conversation was going, not one tiny bit. “Yeah”

The lovely grandmotherly visage disappeared to a look that would have fit in quite well with the gossipy matrons back in the day. She glanced between him and Alex, who had stopped swinging, just sitting there, watching them. “Apparently your father decided your mother was too old, and decided to get a younger one”

_Okay, what the fuck?_

Nero didn't know how to respond. On Fortuna, it would have been easy, just give her the finger and walk away. But here? It was more complicated. He couldn't do it in front of his impressionable sister (Oh god, was he becoming... _responsible?_ ) It looked like people in this universe could be equally assholish. The more things change....

“HEY!!” a squeaky voice caused both of them to snap their heads to the white haired pipsqueak in front of them, her hands on her hips.

“Don't talk mean things about my family!” she said, and Nero swore he could feel something radiate from her, a flame, that if left unattended, would turn into an inferno. Apparently, he wasn't the only one, because the dog leapt down and growled at the girl. Alex was undeterred, “ You're wrong! My Daddy and Mommy love me and my big brothers!” The dog growled louder, and her aura flared out in challenge. This was enough for the tiny little shit to do a 180, and with a high pitched yelp, back up and hide behind the lady's long skirt.

But of course, the bint didn't have a clue, she couldn't sense the demonic presence like he and the dog could. “Young lady!” she squawked like an angry crow, “You should know better than to talk to your elders like that!” Alex rolled her eyes (another thing he and her had in common, he chuckled inwardly.)

“Well, you shouldn’t say mean things, old people should know better than that!” Her hands balled into fists, and he could hear her knuckles popping.

Okay, it was time to put an end to this before someone got hurt. Not that he was worried for his sister, but a police report of “four year old broke an elderly woman’s knees” would not be a great look. “Come on kid,” he said, getting off the bench. “Let’s just get home, what she’s saying means nothing to us. We stick together, okay?”

He scooped her up before she could protest, and he assumed that she stuck her tongue out at the miserable cow, because he could clearly hear the woman mutter “Children these days…” He was upset, of course, mostly for the fact that Alex had to hear that, especially when it wasn’t true. 

“Big Nero…” she asked hesitantly after he had carried her a few blocks in silence. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, we just had to get away from that. People say mean things all the time, we just have to have each other’s back, and make sure we don’t hurt other people because of it. It’s just hard to do when you’re a kid”

“But she was telling a lie, and Daddy told me that only fools tell lies!” Nero had to stifle a chuckle at that. That definitely sounded like Vergil.

“Fu- Don’t listen to them. The thing is,” he said as they approached the front of their home. Dante’s motorcycle and his mother’s car were parked outside now. He kneeled down so he was at her eye level. “You know it’s not true in here” he poked her gently in her chest, “and that’s all that matters.”

Her frown melted into a smile reminiscent of her mother’s, and without warning, she swung her arms around his neck, trapping him in a rather insistent hug. “I love you Big Nero…” she said, and he had to resist the urge to cry…

“Yeah,” he murmured into her shoulder, his arms hesitantly wrapping around her frame, “I love ya too” Another pause, as he enjoyed this moment, before he let go reluctantly. “Let’s get inside, wouldn’t want your mom to panic at where you were at.” She groaned, but released him, and they made their way up the steps.

“Hey! We’re back!” he said as he took off his jacket and shoes. Silence. Odd, because usually when Dante was around, there was some music playing. His senses seemed on edge… where the hell was everyone?

He got his answer as strong arms grabbed him, and he felt himself tipped over Dante’s shoulder, like a particularly foul-mouthed sack of potatoes. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing!?” he growled, not caring that his sister was within earshot.

“What are you doing with Big Nero?” Alex asked, obviously alarmed.

“Dontcha worry your pretty little head about it kiddo,” his uncle responded, and he could hear the smile in his voice. “You just put your shoes away, and get your butt to the living room, I got some candy out there, and if you hurry, you can get to have some before your mom says no.”

Accepting the bribe as easily as a Russian bureaucrat, she chucked her shoes in the bin and ran into the adjoining room. _Betrayed by my own sister…_ Nero thought morosely, as his uncle carried him up the stairs. “Seriously Dante, what the hell is going on?”

“Me and your mom are getting tired of the dance you two have been playing,” came his uncle’s reply. “It’s time you and your dad have a chat.”


	5. Reunions and Returns...

Nero wasn’t sure if the nausea he felt was from motion sickness from dangling upside down over Dante’s shoulder as he was carried up the stairs at a steady pace, or it was in anticipation of finally confronting Vergil. After wanting to speak to the man, and finally giving up on him, now he really, really didn’t want to talk to him. But no matter how much he struggled, Dante’s firm grip held him still. As they walked down the hallway, to Vergil’s study, Nero could make out two voices through a crack in the doorway.

“I don’t care, he deserves a conversation from his father, he IS your son, no matter where he came from,”

“I know, my Even-”

“Don’t you ‘Evening Star’ me, I don’t know why you’re so afraid of Nero-”

“I am not afraid.”

“Then why have you been hiding here, Vergil? Do you have any idea how much pain you are putting OUR son in with your actions?” (Nero’s heart thumped painfully at the mention of the word ‘our’)

A sharp hiss, and then, “It was not my intention to make him feel that way, I was-”

By this time, Dante had reached the partially open door and with his free hand, rapped his knuckles on the wood.

“I got him here,” Dante announced, finally setting him down with a healthy THUNK (the nausea did not go away), but keeping a hand tightly on his shoulder. 

“Bring Nero in, please,” his mother said curtly, and the door opened to reveal his mother, hands on her hips, bringing back memories of a sister scolding him at the Orphanage. Except this time, it wasn’t Nero being lectured for skipping services, it was Vergil (and he took some sort of perverse glee in it now) who sat there with a hung head.

“I’m going to make dinner.” she announced to the both of them, her voice confident and firm (and it must have been a well practiced voice, in order to deal with four rowdy demon blooded people), “And by the time it’s ready, I want both of you to talk, to put this silent treatment to an end. She started to walk out, before stopping at the threshold and giving final instructions to Dante, “Make sure they both stay in this room, and make sure they don’t kill each other.”

“Sure thing, Sunshine!” quipped Dante, giving a mock salute.

“Oh, and another thing,” she said, out of sight, in the hallway, “Try to not eavesdrop…” and with that, the door closed with a heavy thud.

So there he was, trapped with his father, in the claustrophobic room. Scents of old paper, aged leather, and faint traces of mint permeated the room, a stronger version of what his father’s room/study was back home. Covering nearly every wall was a bookshelf, with each one filled with a collection of books, many of which had titles in languages Nero couldn’t possibly comprehend. Where there was free wall space, there was a plethora of pictures, of little Nero, of Alex, of his mother and Vergil in some sort of wedding photo. Hell, there was even a photo of a cheerful Dante, his arm slung around his brother, who couldn’t quite suppress the shadow of a smile.

The sound of rustling cloth and the clearing of a throat yanked his attention back to the man sitting in front of him, quite a bit disheveled, with large dark circles under his eyes. He looked older, almost as old and as bad as he did when he and Dante had showed up on his doorstop, fresh from hell. His bright blue overcoat wasn’t in its usual pristine state, wrinkled, and tossed casually over the back of his desk chair. Yamato leaned against the antique desk, looking nearly identical to his father’s, which made the multicoloured sageo stand out even more. 

“So,” Vergil said, his one hand closing a book in his lap with a dull snap, the other tapping insistently on his knee, “It appears we have been forced into a corner.”

“Yeah,” Nero responded, “the question is, how are we going to work this out? I don’t have Red Queen with me, and this room doesn’t seem like a good place to settle the matter”

Vergil looked perplexed, “You… wish to fight?”

“Well, it’s our usual way of solving problems, isn’t it? At least that’s what I do with my dad and uncle when they start pulling shit. It’s our unique way of family bonding, and it keeps our skills sharp.” Nero paused, looking at the growing look of alarm on the older man’s face “Oh come on, you guys get on each other's nerves right?”

“Yes…” Vergil started hesitatingly “But I’m not sure that this is the solution. At least your mother and uncle would strongly disagree.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes like he was experiencing a momentary headache

“I mean, what do you want to do, talk it over?” Nero pointed an accusatory finger at him. “That’s not like you Vergil. You either fight, or just run away from problems. Problems like me.” 

Vergil’s head shot up at that last part. “You are not-”

“Spare me” Nero interrupted “You’ve been locked up in this room doing God knows what for nearly a week, and anytime you come out, I might as well not exist, with the way you ignore me. So yes, I AM a problem to you” Nero’s eyes began burning, but he kept going. He needed to, or else he would break down, and he refused to do that in front of this uncaring man. This Vergil didn’t deserve it. “I can’t say I blame you. I’m not  _ him.  _ I’m not  _ your _ son. But even if I’m not, I at least deser-”

Nero didn’t get a chance to continue, because faster than he could react, Vergil had practically teleported off his chair, and the next thing he knew, he felt strong arms wrapped around him. His first instinct, done without thinking, was to pull away, but the grip was strong and unyielding. As his brain finally caught up, Nero realized what the hell was happening.

_ Vergil was hugging him. _

Nero attempted to make sense of the situation. His father had never been a touchy feely kind of guy, and while occasionally attempting affectionate actions, like a shoulder pat, and even once ruffling his hair. (nothing could rip that grin off Nero’s face for the rest of the day after that.) But never a hug. Nero had assumed it was just because Vergil wasn’t the type to show physical forms of affection, and accepted the fact he’d probably never pry an embrace out of his old man, but...this version was different, or …maybe, this Vergil was how his father was, without the years of trauma? He stopped struggling, relaxed, and allowed himself to enjoy this moment. At least until Vergil unleashed a bomb.

_ “Nero... my son” _ he murmured into his shoulder,  _ “How you must hate me…” _

Okay, this was even more weird. Nero had been under the impression that Vergil hated  _ him _ . But was it the other way around?

“Uh… you’ve been a bit of an avoidant ass for the past few days, but that’s not worth hating you for.” Nero responded, now completely confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“For everything I’ve done, for the destruction I’ve caused, for all that I've done to you. How I've hurt you, abandoned you.. Surely you must hate me.” 

Nero was mentally knocked on his butt. “You’re not responsible for his actions, you’ve done what you were supposed to do, you took care of your son, you didn’t rip my damn arm off. Besides,” He could feel slight wetness in the crook of his neck, “And even after all he did, I could never really blame him, he didn’t know about me, and the thing he did with my arm was an act of mindless survival. Am I still a bit pissed at him, well, yeah, but you have nothing to apologize for other than practically ignoring my existence for the past few days.” Was this what was causing him to retreat into his study.? God, it looked like every Vergil was bad at emotionally communicating. Or maybe that was just a Sparda trait in general?

“I...” Nero began hesitatingly, his hands slowly wrapping around the older man, in an attempt to reciprocate the gesture, so unfamiliar, yet so welcoming. “ I don’t hate you, I just wanted to be accepted by you, to be acknowledged that I’m a part of this family, even if I’m not who you want.”

“And you are…” Vergil replied softly, “you are...I just didn’t think my heart could bear any more…” he pulled back and glanced at the book he had held just. And then the second bombshell dropped.

_ “I have already lost one son, I do not wish to lose another”. _

“Wait,” Nero said, attempting to catch his thoughts, to form them into a coherent sentence “What the hell do mean by that?”

Vergil looked down mournfully at the book he held. “I’ve been… researching.” He placed the book on the desk and slowly opened it to a bookmarked page. At first glance, Nero could make a rough sketch of what appeared to be the worm, its tentacles grabbing some unfortunate figure, ready to drop it into its gaping maw. “The Chronoskolex, when it consumes a non-Geryon victim, uses its warping power to deposit the victim into the future, or past, the length of time is dependent on the power of the creature, which itself is dependent on how many Timesteeds its consumed.” 

He flipped to another page, full of handwritten notes, in an unfamiliar hand, most likely some ancient scholar well versed in the subject of demonology.

Vergil continued, “In some cases, foolhardy souls who have already been transported in time, have attempted to get swallowed up again by the same worm, and in every single case, they returned to their original time.” He paused, looking back at the book, licking his lips nervously. “That being said, there’s been no cases of transferring between alternate universes, as there’s never been a Chronoskolex encounter that’s been capable of that ability. But the one you, in your world encountered, was powerful enough to tear open a hole between worlds, and to exist in both worlds simultaneously.”

“That makes no sense” Nero’s brow furrowed, attempting to wrap his head around the entire concept.

“This Chronoskolex is one of a kind. There’s multiple versions of myself, you, and unfortunately,” he glared at the closed door “your uncle.”

“I heard that!” The muffled response of Dante came from behind the heavy oak barrier.

“He was specifically told not to eavesdrop,” Vergil muttered, his brows furrowing before he went on. “This one worm is powerful enough to exist in all universes, in all timelines. It’s consumed enough to become a nexus of demonic energy. And due to it’s ravenous hunger, it could possibly start tearing all realities apart, attempting to find prey.” He closed his eyes, as if he was about to confess a horrible crime, “it must be destroyed.”

“But.... if people got put back into their correct time if they got eaten again, maybe if I got slorped up, I’d be able to get home…” Nero mused.

“Yes, it would appear so.”

“And then we could send your kid back via the same wa-”   
  
“There would not be enough time, every moment this worm exists, the fabric of reality could be ripped to shreds with its power.” he paused, “Your only hope to get back to your world, and keep it intact is to travel via the worm, and then slay the beast on our end and yours before it can destroy everything.”

“But… if we kill it… there’s no way of getting your Nero back.”

“It must be done.” Vergil responded tersely, but Nero could see the cracks in the emotional armour. “I have delayed this for far too long, researching to see if there was a way to get him back, but there seems to be no way for him to return without risking all worlds.” his father’s head dropped in defeat, his shoulders trembling under an invisible weight. “At least in one world, a Vergil will have his son back. But it must be soon.”

Neros rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really wanted to go home, to hold Kyrie in his arms, to wrestle with the kids, to be with his newfound uncle and father. But the price… in the end, no matter what happened, someone would lose. If there was a way to bring the younger version of himself back to this world, Nero would have given up everything, even his chance of getting home. But his father was right, there was no way to bring him back.

“Alright,” he agreed, dejected and defeated. “Problem is, where can we find this damn worm? Dante said he never found anything, and nobody’s seen the thing. If it’s in some sort of hibernation, there’s no way we’d ever be able to find it”

The protesting shriek of seldom used hinges echoed throughout the study, causing both men to swing their heads to the doorway. Dante stood there, a grin on his face.

“Thankfully, I think I know where our big bugger went.” Dante said proudly, his hands on his hips

“You were not supposed to be eavesdropping”

“Well, I can’t help it if you guys talk so loudly, and I just happened to hear. At least you guys got over your emotional hurdles. Took you long enough.” he seemed to ignore the glares both father and son gave him. “Anyways, you talking about our timey-wimey slug’s eating habits triggered a memory. Vergil, you remember a timesteed from… about… let’s say twelve years ago?”

His father frowned, before his eyes widened “ Temen-ni-gru”

“Yup, I’d bet a year’s supply of pizza that’s where our beastie went. It’s the only place that has the smell of the damn horse.”

“But I still don’t understand why it would take either of Neros?” Vergil asked, genuinely confused.

“Well…” Dante scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the doorframe. “You know that necklace I gave Nero for Christmas a few years back? It had a bit of a Geryon hoof on it… you know,” he said quickly, attempting to stop a stabbing that Vergil was about to inflict on him. “I thought it would be a good luck charm! You know, like a regular horseshoe!”

“Evidently that didn’t work,” Vergil continued glowering at his brother, and Nero realized something. Something that would help immensely.

“Ragtime!” he yelped, and both his father and uncle turned to him, perplexed. “My devil breaker, it has a modification based off a piece of a Timesteed that…” he paused, “well, the details don’t matter, but the fact that the worm zeroed in on me when I used it, means that it can smell it. If we can locate the worm, I can lure it out when I activate it,”

“And then you can return to your own world, and together, we can slay it, before it does more damage” Vergil finished his sentence.

“You sure about that Verg? There’s a chance they can still send our Nero back”

“There won’t be an opportunity, by the time he reaches the others, the worm could be long gone, or worse, punching holes in reality itself, dooming both their and our world” Vergil replied dejectedly, resigning himself to the futility of it all. “Tomorrow, we must make our way to the tower’s ruins...and follow our course to its bitter end”

“Ahem…” a small voice piped up from around the doorframe. Alex peeked in, slightly nervously, with chocolate from her bribery candy still smeared on her lips. “Mommy says supper is almost ready, and she wants EVERYBODY” she put a lot of force into that word, as if she was relaying exactly how his mom had requested, “to clean up and get to the table”

A hand tentatively was placed on his right shoulder, and a heavier one clapped onto his left, and Nero looked up to see both his uncle and father reassuring him, that despite everything that had transpired, and despite everything that would happen, the bonds between family could never be broken.

“Shall we?” his father said, “a family dinner together is long overdue”

“About fuc-fricken time,” Dante joked, “had more trouble dragging you out of hell than getting you two to tal-ow!” as Vergil smacked in on the back of the head. No matter the reality, it seemed the brothers’ behaviour never quite changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my older readers might say, "Wait, I don't remember anything about little Nero getting a Geryon hoof necklace for Christmas!" 
> 
> Well, of course I didn't add it in _'Little Star of Bethlehem'_ after the fact, before this story was published. It was there the WHOLE TIME!


	6. Farewells

The sun hadn’t even thought about peeking above the horizon, but that didn’t stop the make believe festivities from going full swing. Nero was festooned in not just a feather boa and the wide brimmed hat, he now had several plastic jeweled necklaces draped around his neck like it was Mardi Gras, instead of a tea party.

He let his cup be filled with imaginary tea as he nibbled an actual real cookie from a package he had pilfered from the top shelf in the kitchen. Whatever happened, he wanted this party, the last one with his sister, to be one to remember. All the stuffed animals had taken up every spot on the table, and there were so many of them, there weren’t enough dishes for them all. This was an all out event. 

Alex, for her part, was attempting to be a gracious hostess, but it was obvious something was bothering her. Her biscuit, a sandwich cookie with lemon filling, sat on the table, with only a small bite taken out of it. _Did she know? Did she hear the conversations he had with his father and mother last night?_

Late last night, the adults had made a plan. After breakfast, he and his uncle and father would go to the site of the ruined tower, and with any luck the worm would be there and then… well, the plan was a bit fuzzy. The basics were, activate Ragtime, lure the worm out to eat him, then hope he got swallowed, and HOPE he got transferred back to his world. And for the final thing, kill the damn thing, destroying the danger for good.

_Thus dooming his alternate version._

Fuck, there had to be a way. Perhaps Nico could think of something, maybe there was something in her wretched excuse of a father’s notes. After all, Agnus had figured out how to create hell gates, perhaps with Nico’s genius (not that he would ever admit that to her) they could send little Nero back… assuming the kid was still alive

“Big Nero?” Alex’s voice intruded into his morose thoughts, “Are you really leaving?”

 _Fuck_ . _What to say? If she was anything like her dad, she’d be able to see through his lie right away._

He sighed in resignation. “Yeah, I gotta go home to my family, they probably are missing me a whole bunch”

Well, he might as well have told her that he ripped up her artwork on the fridge, if the tears in her eyes indicated anything.

“But I thought we were your family!? ! You can’t leave Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Dante! You can’t leave me!” The last sentence nearly broke his heart. She obviously couldn’t understand the convoluted scenario, (and to be fair, neither could he. Time travel AND universe jumping? It was enough to make his head spin.)

“You guys ARE my family,” he tried to reassure her, “It’s just… I have my own family who are worried about me. And besides, I need to go to get your brother back”

“BUT YOU ARE MY BROTHER!!”

“I know, it’s hard to explain but-“

“No! You’re being mean! Stop treating me like a baby!” She slammed her cup down on the table, causing other dishes to wobble and fall off, “I don’t wanna play anymore, get out of my room!”

“Alex…”

“Get out of my room now!”

Nero was just able to get the hat off, but not the neck adornments as he was shoved by tiny hands out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He winced at the sound, hoping that it wouldn’t awaken the other adults in the home.

“I take it she didn’t react to you leaving very well,” he turned suddenly, to see his mother leaning against the wall, still dressed in pyjamas and a bathrobe, a sad smile on her face.

“I keep forgetting she’s pretty bright for her age, she knows more than she lets on,” Nero replied, slowly taking off the necklaces, the cheap clink of plastic beads sounding abnormally loud in the stillness of the early morning.

Her smile regained some authenticity, “Yes, she’s learned from her brother to find out the best places to eavesdrop,” She looked back at the closed door. “Don’t worry, she’ll be back to her normal, bubbly self in no time. She’s a highly resilient child.”

“Yeah, kids are amazing like that, Carlos, one of the kids we foster can cry about having a nightmare, and within a half a minute of comforting, he’s out like a light” the memory of the boy, his big brown eyes partially obscured by auburn hair came to him, and for once, he didn’t shove it back away.

Her eyes brightened, “Oh, you foster children?”

“Yeah, we got three of them right now, Fortuna’s social infrastructure isn’t great for kids who need bedrock to steady themselves. Trust me, the Orphanage isn’t something I’d wish on any kid.”

Her smile spread even further, reaching her eyes, “Oh Nero..” she came closer to put her hands on his shoulders, “You’ve grown to be a fine young man, even if you didn’t have the easiest of childhoods. I’m so proud of you,” he let himself be pulled into a gentle hug, feeling her hands carefully rubbing circles on his back. For his whole life, he had wondered about his birth mother, wondering whether she, due to societal standards, had been forced to give him up, or if she just didn’t want him… 

_At this moment, who his birth mother was didn’t matter at all._

Not when he had a mother like this, even if she was an alternate universe one. He wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head on her shoulder. He may have not been able to thank her in his world, but he could attempt to make it up to her in this one. He’d find a way to get her son back, no matter the obstacles.

All too soon, he felt her pull back, and with her gentle smile, she pulled his head down and kissed his brow. “Whatever happens, I know what you will have the knowledge of what to do, to forge the path that you feel is right.”

She let go, but held his shoulders, a sad smile on her face, her eyes glassy in the early morning light. “Well, would you like to help me make breakfast?

*****

Breakfast was a sombre, quiet affair, despite the smell of french toast, cinnamon, and the salty tang of peameal bacon. Even his uncle, always up to crack a joke, seemed a bit subdued.

“Sheesh,” he said around a mouthful of french toast, earning a glare from his brother, “are we going to a funeral?”

“It might as well be,” his father shot back, “this may be his only chance to get back, and we don’t even know if it will work.” 

“Yeah, that’s totally the type of stuff to say in front of your son to put him at ease.”

“He deserves to know the truth, Dante. I won’t sugar coat the situation.”

Dante wagged a piece of bacon, speared by his fork disapprovingly towards his brother, “There’s a difference between being optimistic but truthful, and… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I’m being factual”

“You’re being an asshole”

“Gentlemen,” a stern voice caused both of them to flinch, and for a split second, Nero could have sworn both his uncle and father had shrunk to child size. His mother, hand on her hip, the other hand with a pitcher of orange juice which she put on the table, “we don’t need you two to be bickering on this day of all days.”

“Sorry Sunshine.”

“Apologies, my Evening Star”

“Look,” Nero attempted to switch the conversation to something more productive. “We’ve already determined how the lesser versions of this thing works with the timeline, there shouldn’t be any reason this won’t work.”

“The issue is what happens afterwards,” Vergil stared at his plate, his brows furrowed even more than usual, “if it is truly warping the fabric of reality, one more crossing may trigger a cascade of irreversible destruction. Which means,”

“Yeah, you said before, we gotta kill the beastie,” his uncle gulped down the last of his toast. “But your kid…”Nero interjected, he didn’t want to take this conversation down to it’s inevitable conclusion. “Look, I got a good friend on that side, if there’s a way to get your son back, I’d bet my right arm (he enjoyed the flash of panic on his father’s face) she’s the one that can finagle a way. The woman is a whiz when it comes to demonic artifacts and what they can do.

Vergil frowned, “Be aware Nero, people who dabble in demonic studies, even with the best of intentions, can easily slide into dangerous waters”  
“Don’t worry,” Nero assured him, as he mopped up the syrup with the last piece of french toast. “She’s got a good example of what happens,” Nero clarified, “trust me, she’s the last person I could see falling for that shit.”

“Then…” his father said solemnly, “it appears that’s our only hope.” Nero didn’t like how he looked, pale and almost broken. It reminded him of how V looked in his final hours deep in the depths of the Qliphoth tree. Except, this time there was no reunion to make him whole, there would be no happy ending.

“Annnnd there goes any chance of lightening the mood,” Dante said, pushing himself away from the table, and then doing an exaggerated stretch, “speaking of which, where’s the little tyke? She’s usually racing down the stairs first thing in the morning.”

“She’s uh, well… she’s not taking this whole thing well.” Nero explained awkwardly, “I don’t blame her, this shit is confusing to me, and I’m an adult.”

“I’m in the same boat,” quipped Dante, “once you figure out how to get our Nero back, we’re all going to need some therapy.”

“There’s no guarantee that-” his father started up again.

“Lay off it, Verg.” his uncle stopped that train of thought in its tracks, “If there’s something I know about you, is that you’re persistent as hell. If you think your alternate version, a guy who raised a damn vampire tree to keep himself alive, wouldn’t do everything to get our Nero back into this world, then you’re deluding yourself.” He pointed his finger dangerously close to Vergil’s face to emphasize the point.

For a brief moment, his dad looked like he was about to skewer Dante, but slowly, he let his brother win the argument by turning aside and began to leave the room. “Come Nero,” he said, “she needs to say goodbye before we leave” 

They made their way up the stairs, before stopping at her door, still closed shut. Vergil took a deep breath, before gently giving the door a few gentle raps. For a few moments, there was obstinate silence.

“Alexandra,” he softly called out, “I need you to open up. We are leaving now, and your brother wishes to say his farewells to you.” More silence. Nero half expected Vergil to just open the door, but to his surprise, he rested his forehead against the darkly stained wood. “Stardust,” his voice was so gentle, so unlike anything he had ever seen from his father. “I know this is difficult for you, it’s difficult for your mother and uncle, it’s difficult… for me.” he paused, vulnerability evident in his tone. “But you can’t lock yourself away, you need to be strong…”

A few moments of tense reticence passed, before the door creaked open, revealing a pair of once sharp blue eyes, now blurred by shed tears. It broke Nero’s heart.

“You’re really, really, leaving?” she asked, sniffling. He slowly crouched down on one knee, to make sure he was at eye level with her.

“Yeah, I gotta go back, but you know what?” he poked at her chest, earning an echo of a smile for his effort, “I’m never gonna forget you okay? You’re one of a kind, and you gotta be strong for your family. That’s what you wanted to do right?”

She hesitatingly nodded, “I’m not gonna forget you too.” she reached into her pocket “I… I made this for you, so you don’t forget us.” And into his hand was placed a short braid, made of green nylon rope. “It’s mommy’s and my favourite colour!” 

Now it was time for Nero to hold back the tears as he embraced the child in a hug to keep himself from breaking down. “You’re a good kid, Alex. You’re gonna make your family proud.”

It was far too soon, but he let her go. 

“It’s time,” his father quietly spoke, and he looked down the stairs to see his mother and uncle waiting for him. He stiffened his shoulders, attempting to fake the confidence he truly didn’t feel, and holding her tiny hand in his, he led her down the steps, Vergil following close behind.

*****

The hour long ride was quiet as both father and son sat in the back, Dante at the wheel, amazingly following traffic laws. Nero had a feeling his uncle, even a version who was a tab bit more organized, wasn’t one to go under the speed limit. It was as if he was drawing this whole thing out.

“Nero,” his father spoke, fidgeting with the tsuba of Yamato, “when the moment happens, you must act quickly. There must be no hesitation.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” he responded, “are you going to be okay? There’s no knowing how this will go afterwards.”

“I will be fine.” An obvious lie. Vergil saw his son’s look of disbelief, and sighed. “Very well, I’m terrified. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“I just wanted the truth. And to be honest,” he glanced down at Ragtime laying comfortably at his side, “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m scared shitless”

“Well, that makes three of us,” Dante chimed in, as the vehicle lurched to the side as the paved road transitioned to long unmaintained asphalt. The buildings gave way to a wrecked landscape, reminiscent of a bombed out World War Two city, and Nero couldn’t sense a single human in the vicinity. But he could feel demons, a whole host of them. But something felt off… like the demons were there one moment, but then gone the next, only to return diminished, or stronger. When he opened the door after Dante had skidded to a stop (his uncle couldn’t quite get rid of all of his penchant for flashiness) he sensed something in the wind, the smell of old copper. The air seemed to shimmer as well, but it was only out of the corner of his eye.

“You feel it too,” Vergil murmured as he dusted nonexistent dust off his overcoat, “two realities are brushing up against each other in this location, like soap bubbles. The slightest disturbance could cause either one or both to burst.” He scanned the destruction, before his eyes fell on debris that was much newer. “No doubt this is caused by the Chronoskolex, it appears that Dante was correct in his hunch.”

“Would I ever let my family down?” Dante called out, earning a glare from both men. “Fine, I’ll go out and scout out the area, make sure we won’t have any distractions.” He gave a playful punch to his elder brother’s shoulder, followed by a pointed stare, before sauntering off, whistling a song that sounded familiar to Nero, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Maybe some sort of disco tune?

“Nero,” Vergil’s voice wavered. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

In the stillness of the graveyard of buildings, Nero had no choice but to focus on his father.

“Should you get through this, but are unable to find a way to send him back…” he paused, evidently trying to keep his composure, “I ask that you take care of him and to… to let him know that he is loved, by his sister and mother, by his uncle, and.. and by me.”

“I’m pretty sure he knows he’s loved,” Nero smiled, “and you know that’s not a favour, I’ll protect him.”

What he expected was a grateful nod of thanks. What he got was a bone crushing hug.

“My son,” his father spoke, his voice slightly smothered by Nero’s coat, “do not forget that you are loved as well, both on this side, and in your world. His experiences may have changed how he expresses his thoughts, but I am certain your father cares and is as proud of you as I am.”

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“Despite your vastly different paths in life, I see my son in you, your strength, your determination, your compassion and devotion. I have no doubt that myself and your father share the same feelings about you.”

_Dammit, I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry._

Never had Nero been so happy to hear a demonic screech from a few dozen metres away as a distractions. Both he and his father instinctively swung to its direction, weapons drawn.

What appeared out of the wreckage was the most unusual sight. A demon that towered over them by several metres, carrying a scythe clumsily in hands, or were they claws? A tattered cloth covered its bulk but the shape, and the way it moved seemed familiar.

“A Hell Vanguard,” mused his father, “I was under the impression that Dante had wiped your kind out. No matter, as per usual, I must complete his unfinished work…”

And with that, both father and son moved as one, attacking the devil from both sides, leaving it no time or space to manoeuvre. Not that it would have changed the outcome. It feebly attempted to defend itself, but its movements were sluggish, as if it was some sort of newborn horse, attempting to use its limbs for the very first time. The reason became obvious when the tattered remnants of cloth were burnt away by Red Queen. Vergil evidently had been expecting something skeletal, but instead the body was insectoid. As both he and Vergil dealt the killing blow, it finally clicked.

“That was an Empusa Queen!” Nero exclaimed, as the creature dissolved into ash with one last blood curdling scream, “But how.. and why did it look so … so weird? I’ve never actually seen one using a weapon, it doesn’t have the mental capabilities to do such a thing.”

“It’s what I’m afraid of,” Vergil replied, attempting to be calm. “The universes are intermingling, causing souls to merge.” Closing his eyes, he knelt his head and let out a single long breath. “It’s time.”

Shots rang out, and they turned to find Dante fighting what seemed to be Nobodies, except to Nero, they seemed even more grotesque, their masks cracked, revealing red and purple irises. They attempted to crawl, but the crossbows they held (or were they physically melded into their limbs?) meant the best that they could do was hobble around. It would be pathetic, if it weren’t so fucking creepy. And there were a whole lot of them, and even in their fettered state, there was a good chance they’d eventually overwhelm his uncle.

“Verg, you are just going to stand there? Give me a hand here!” Dante took one down, but another leapt onto his back, it’s malformed hands attempting to rip out his spine. Nero began to move to assist, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time, you need to lure in the worm. Now.” his eyes were hard, but even in this moment, Nero could see how much it took for him to keep his resolve. “Go, my son.” And with that, he walked towards his brother, who had managed to rip the backpacking demon off him, and threw it into the ground, before shooting it point blank in one of its faces. His father didn’t look back, but Nero didn’t think it was a case of rejection, but the fact that Vergil couldn’t bear to watch him go, that simply glancing back would make him lose his crumbling resolve.

Nero took a deep breath, glanced down at his right arm, and with a familiar _KACHUNK_ he activated the mechanism.

Immediately, as before, a shimmery dome enveloped the area, slowing everything to a crawl. Dante was swinging Rebellion into the skull of a bronze coloured mask dramatically, in a pose that would have fit in a 80’s metal album cover. Vergil was in the middle of unsheathing Yamato, his eyes hyper focused on his target, but his pose betraying a tumult of emotions.

Nero felt a tremor that seemed to vibrate in the air, the ground, and even in his chest, and he steeled himself for what he knew would happen.

Ragtime whined as an unseen pressure was placed on it and then... _SNAP._ Even the creations of the Legendary Genius Nico could only take so much strain. Time retracted back to its original form, before the sound of crackling, crunching assaulted his ears, drowning out the sounds of battle. It took a few heartbeats to figure out that it was the sound of foundation, concrete and steel being torn. The cause was immediately apparent, a long ridge of raised earth signaled the worm's arrival. And it was coming straight for him, fast. Ten metres away, it emerged, its velocity propelling it several more metres into the air, tentacles flailing wildly. It took all his willpower to resist the instinct of self preservation and to just stand his ground. Fighting back would come later, if all things went according to plan.

One tendril hit the target, wrapping around his ankle, signalling to the others that the prey had been located, and within seconds, he was swarmed by dozens of slimy tentacles. Time slowed to a crawl once more, and he was dragged into the gaping maw, torturously slow.

And that’s when he took one last glance at his uncle and father. He had expected them to be furiously fighting against the monstrosities, most likely having a friendly competition to see who could rack up the most kills, but instead he found something most strange. Vergil was trying to run towards him, but was restrained tightly by his brother. And his face, the look on it was so familiar. The last time he had seen his father with such terror was… a little less than a week ago, when he had first been consumed. _Hmmm,_ he thought, _I guess he was right,_ _perhaps both of my fathers aren’t that different._

He could feel the hot rancid breath on the back of his neck, signaling the end, and so he gave this family, a family that by all rights he should have never known about, but was honoured to have met, a small smile, and with his free arm, managed to give them a thumbs up. He swore he could hear his father’s scream, and closed his eyes as the jaws enveloped him. _Well, here goes nothing…..._

******

The rush of air, and the familiar crack as he flew into the air, before rolling to a stop against a partially destroyed concrete barrier. He felt woozy, nauseous, and basically like shit as he forced himself to get up without heaving his guts. The Chronoskolex flailed in front of him, its tentacles groping for a non-existent meal. For a brief moment Nero wondered if his gambit paid off, if he was back in his original universe, but no, there would be time to worry about that after this thing was put down. He took one step, stumbled, regained his footing on the cracked cobblestone, and pulled out Blue Rose to at least keep the beast’s attention while he got his insides back to normal.

“Nero!” He heard his name called, faintly, the feeling of cotton balls stuffed into his ears hadn’t quite dissipated. He pushed the distraction aside, killing the damn worm was his top priority, nothing else mattered at the moment.

Arms suddenly restrained him, and out of instinct, he tried to struggle out of them, but they were insistent and unyielding and…. familiar.

“Nero…” he heard his father’s voice repeat his name in his left shoulder, softer, yet as clear as crystal. It dawned on him what was happening.

_His father was hugging him…_

His heart fell. It hadn’t worked, the plan had failed. The worm must have spat him out or regurgitated him, because looking around, he was surrounded by ruined buildings, just like before. And his true father, the one that was so touch averse, would never be hugging him. Tears formed in Nero’s eyes as the realization that his only way of getting back home had slammed shut in his face. He felt his legs buckle at the realization, and if it wasn’t for Vergil’s strong grip, he would have just face planted on the cracked sidewalk. Slowly, he was eased to his knees as he gave into despair.

“Dante...finish it.” Vergil’s voice, raspier than he had expected called out, and a red blur sped past them, intercepting the creature before it could burrow again. Strange… with the unshed tears blurring his vision, Dante’s sword looked a lot bigger than Rebellion, and his overcoat was a duller red. He blinked to clear his sight, and looked down at the arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace. Instead of the bright blue coat arms, they were dark, blue, almost black. like his...

“Dad?” he croaked out, terrified that his realization was just another mistake. The arms tightened around his chest, with a noticeable tremble.

“You’re home…” his father’s voice murmured into his shoulder, “You’re safe…” there was unmistakable, unexpected tenderness in it, and yet, Nero was even more certain that the plan had actually succeeded. 

He began to look around as his uncle, (and yup, he was whooping like a deranged Bruce Lee while wielding Cerberus, this HAD to be his original timeline) fought with the demonic piece of filth, and realized that, while they were surrounded by ruins, they were totally different than before. A half melted red phone booth cemented it, they were in Redgrave. The place where Nico had first built her prototype of Ragtime. It made sense, the worm had obviously gone to the last place a Geryon had been sighted.

And now it’s trail had led to its doom. Unlike before, Dante dodged tentacles with ease and then, with Devil Sword Dante and a flurry of summoned swords, he split the tough hide, causing a gory rip that only expanded as the worm squirmed this way and that. This allowed his uncle to get a few more hits, tearing more cuts into demonic flesh. The worm attempted to shake him off, first by speeding up time, then slowing it down, but his uncle kept up with its movements like an annoying fly. 

Eventually, the Chronoskolex’s movements slowed down enough for the devil hunter to aim his massive weapon at one of the tears, allowing him to shove it into the worm’s insides, right up to the hilt. 

The Chronoskolex froze, and then like an overinflated balloon, began to burst at the seams, an explosion of demonic viscera, and a hurricane gust of hot rancid air. Dante was blown back by the force, knocking him into the little red phone booth’s remains.

But the strangest thing was, along with the wind, there seemed to be something, no... multiple things, running, like a stampede, and the wind didn’t scream past them as much as it whinnied and neighed around Nero and his father.

And as Nero watched in disbelief, the air distorted and flickered, with things popping in and out of view. The classical ruins of Redgrave were momentarily replaced by the ruins of more modern buildings, the cracked cobblestone walkways vanished, and concrete blinked into existence for a few moments, before being blown away.

But in front of him, a bit more persistent than the other visions, a few metres away was a ghostly image of a blue clad young man, his back to him, who had fallen to his knees. It was unmistakable who he was. 

What was more puzzling was the mop of white hair resting on his shoulder, his slender arms wrapped around Vergil’s back. Nero was confused for a moment, before it hit him; that Vergil was embracing his young son. He blinked for a moment, perplexed at how and what he was seeing.

The boy’s head raised up, and as the image flickered in and out of focus, the two sets of icy blue eyes fixated on each other. There was no doubt about it, Nero was looking at himself, albeit a much younger version. The young boy’s eyes widened as he made contact, and then relaxed and gave a small, shy smile, and began giving him a rapid wave of farewell. He continued waving as the clatter of echoing hooves began to die down and the ghostly image began to fade away, leaving nothing to show that anything had been there in the first place. Nero’s eyes filled up with tears, but this time, not of sadness, but of relief.

“Nero…” Vergil repeated, even more softly now this time, as if he thought that raising his voice would cause his son to crumble to ash. “Are you… well?” his father released him and both got up.

“My stomach feels like it’s about to throw out its tenants, but other than that, I feel… fine” He looked back at his father, who attempted to act his usual stoic self, “How about you?” 

“I am alright,” Vergil lied. 

“I’m doing great too! Thanks for asking!” Dante’s pained voice came from the side as he emerged from the remnants of the phone booth.

“Good to see you too, asshole”

“Oh come on, I did all the hard work and this is the thanks I get?” he vanished his devil arm, and looked around the now empty square, before he licked his lips nervously, “Verg, did the plan work, did the kid… did the kid get through?”

Nero answered, the dread that had plagued him the past day burning off like fog in the mid morning sun, “Yeah...I’m pretty sure he did.” he turned to his father, “Wait, you planned the same thing we did? To get him back to his timeline?”

Vergil’s eyes averted, almost as if he was ashamed, as Dante answered for him, “Yeah, tough choice, but we figured that getting the kid back to his family was the most important thing, we’d figure out how to get you back afterwards. What was it that you said, Verg? ‘At least in one world, a Vergil will have his son back’?”

_Perhaps that Vergil was right… that despite the divergent paths, maybe his father wasn’t quite that different in what he felt._

“Well, I’m glad you did. The kid’s family missed him a shit tonne and,” without warning, he swung his arms around his father, and for once, initiated the hug. “I missed you too.” For a brief moment, he felt his father stiffen, and he worried he would pull away. But to his relief, Vergil relaxed, and hesitantly wrapped his arms around his son.

Had it not been for his demonic hearing, he might have not heard his dad murmur, “As have I.” It was so soft, quick, yet it was a first step. Nero’s heart thudded in his chest at it.

“Awww, don’t leave your favourite uncle out in the cold,” Dante called out, and both men flinched as strong arms enveloped them in a bear hug. For a good minute, all was silent as the men huddled together, but Nero could have sworn he heard faint neighing and the clatter of hooves, the laughter of a child, but he was certain it was just his imagination. It didn’t matter anymore, all that was important to all three of them was that Nero was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter has been fun to write, if it didn't take so long. The drawings at the end were drawn by the wonderful artist and [writer](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Squiddywritesstuffs/pseuds/Squiddywritesstuffs) Squiddy, who's art you can see [ here. ](https://awakenedcheese.tumblr.com/)


	7. Epilogue:  A Ribbon of Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero's back home, in the place (and time) he belongs. But there's still unanswered questions, about the fate of one particular woman.

Nero awoke to the faint smell of rosewater, and the tickle of hair in his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the freckled shoulder of Kyrie, the strap of her nightgown casually slipping off. He smiled, and kissed a couple of those ginger speckles, and gently snuggled closer to her. To think, just twenty four hours ago he had despaired of even seeing her ever again. The look in her eyes when he had showed up on their doorstep, the sobs of relief as she held him tightly, ignoring the fact he probably still stunk of worm guts.

He was so happy to see her, he ignored his uncle’s comments as he passionately kissed her, again, and again, and again, to make up for his weeklong absence. He kissed her on the threshold, while helping her cook dinner, while helping her wash dishes...and while both of the elder men rolled their eyes (and a whistling from Dante), they kissed as they went up the stairs to the bedroom. Kyrie had sent the boys over to Nico’s (“Uh, you sure that’s a good idea?” Nero had asked, “They’ll be fiiiine”, she assured him), leaving the couple a few precious days of relative solitude. That night, they had taken full advantage of it. Thankfully, his uncle had dragged his father out for celebratory drinks (“And I swear I won’t let him knock up another chick this time” he slyly promised, earning a piercing glare from the elder twin).

But now, in the soft half-light of dawn, he just enjoyed the peace and calm, the sound of her relaxed breathing, the sound of the awakening birds. And so, his mind wandered.

Nero, the younger one, after popping into existence at the farm, had been taken promptly to the Devil May Cry office. Little Nero had been polite, but it had been clear he hadn’t been impressed with the state of Dante’s place. And while both twins tried desperately to figure out how to send the boy back, and to get Nero home, Kyrie had showed up, absolutely furious/worried that she hadn't heard back from him, only to encounter a younger, more polite version.

“You know what he said to me, as soon as Kyrie was out of earshot?” Dante snickered as he dug into the roast chicken that Kyrie made for supper, “He says to me ‘Uncle Dante, is she a friend of yours? She’s really pretty.’” Kyrie had flushed so deeply, her freckles disappeared.

They’d agreed to take Nero to Fortuna, where he would be in a much healthier environment than the office, until they had formulated the same plan as the alternate versions had come up with, only the place for luring the Chronoskolex changing. Kyrie had told him that his alternate version was just as adorable as he was at that age, and was just as helpful (and now it was Nero’s turn to blush). As happy as Kyrie was to have him back, he could tell she was relieved that the boy had made his way safely home.

But, there was something that nobody had talked about over dinner, well, two things. His sister, and his mother. No doubt the boy had told them something during his stay, but Nero wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about things that would never be.

At the very least, he should see if he could locate the alternate version of her. Perhaps he was mistaken, maybe the woman that the orphanage matrons dismissively called ‘the weird one’ hadn’t died, maybe the attack had been enough to convince her that being a children’s caretaker was too much of a hassle. But still, the worry niggled at him. Perhaps searching her name online would give him the answers he needed.

And slowly, he shifted, attempting to get out of bed without disturbing Kyrie. No such luck, as she let out a distressed sound, and her hand gently gripped his forearm.

“Nero?” she sleepily called out, and he pressed his lips to her shoulder.

“I’m just getting up to check to see if the old guys came back in one piece, I’ll be back soon.” The grip tightened, “trust me Kyrie, I’m not leaving you ever again,” he murmured softly into her skin, and she relaxed and smiled as her arm fell down as she sank down into the depths of sleep. What stress she must have been going through the past week! He’d find a way to make it up to her, all he needed was a couple more months of saving money… and their unbreakable bond would be visible for all the world to see.

He didn’t need to travel far down the stairs to hear Dante, snoring while sitting upright in one of the armchairs, one of Kyrie’s house furnishing magazines covering his face. (He better not be drooling on it.) His legs were splayed out, and thankfully, his boots were off, so no tracking in dirt, like he had to nag him every damn time he came over.

His father, by contrast, was stretched out on the couch, and despite taking the more comfortable sleeping spot, he didn’t look relaxed at all. He lay ramrod straight, his trademark frown (albeit a softer version) still plastered on his face, and Yamato still gripped tightly in his right hand. How he didn’t wake up with stiff joints and sore muscles sleeping like that was inexplicable. 

He chuckled as he made himself some instant coffee, and looked for the laptop. It was placed on top of the fridge, out of reach of three pairs of grubby little hands. He took a sip of the coffee, despite being able to afford the good stuff nowadays, he would always have a soft spot for the cheap shit.

Opening the laptop up, he began to boot up a search engine, ready to type in her name. He had typed in the first two letters, then stopped. At the top right corner, on a light blue post-it note, was her name. And below it…

_Section 5_

_Plot 76_

Nero’s mouth went dry. He knew what those terms and numbers meant. Saviour’s Respite, Fortuna’s sole cemetery (apart from some of the noble’s family mausoleums) was where everyone on the island ended up, including Credo, even if there had been nothing but his sword to bury. 

Seeing those carefully printed letters and numbers, Nero went numb, all of his hopes and optimistic ideas shattered. He’d hoped that maybe the tales were exaggerated, but it didn’t seem to be so. He pulled off the sticky note, softly closed the laptop, and dumped the half empty cup of coffee down the sink, no longer craving the caffeine. The bitter taste in his mouth wasn’t from the cheap coffee. Still, he needed to see her grave to make it all real. 

He slipped back into the bedroom, where Kyrie still dozed, her face peaceful.

Softly, as not to wake her too much, he whispered, “I’m gonna go for a jog, I’ll be back in an hour at the latest.”

She murmured something intelligible, and sleepily reached out and pulled him down, kissing him, before releasing him with a smile on her face. Satisfied that she would be alright with his temporary absence, he put on his head phones, his running shoes, and after a quick check up on his slumbering relatives, (the magazine had fallen into Dante’s lap, and his father seemed to be a bit more relaxed), he went out into the early morning air.  
  


*****

The black wrought iron gate of the cemetery contrasted with the pale granite stones within, as Nero passed under the gothic text. He was slightly out of breath after the fifteen minute jog, and hung the headphones around his neck, stretched, glancing down at the gravestones around him. A lot of them were elaborate, centuries old sculptures, some dating to the theorized years where Lord Sparda had ruled the island (he really ought to ask his dad about this stuff, it was already a hoot to find out his grandfather, the legendary Ruler of Fortuna had a crippling weakness for chewy caramels.)

Taking out the slightly crinkled note, he mentally oriented himself. Section five… hmm, that would be east of him, which meant he would be passing Credo’s memorial stone. Nero decided he ought to stop by and give him a greeting. Sure, he wasn’t physically there, but Nero could have sworn he felt a presence there every time he visited, and half expected it to tell him his footwork was sloppy, and his fighting style was too flamboyant.

Sure enough, he felt an unusual feeling as he approached the simple stone monolith, so fitting for the man’s personality. Durable, and unyielding.

“Hey Credo,” he said as he paused, “Sorry, can’t stay long today, got someone else to see. Hope you understand. I promise I’ll bring Kyrie over real soon. Right after I pop the question to her,” he paused, and a playful grin passed over his face, “And no, I’m not gonna ask your permission to marry her, you never liked that stuffy custom anyway.” He gave a casual salute, and walked on, leaving the stone watching him, like a silent sentinel.

As he trudged on, Nero frowned. The gravestones here were much more simple, much smaller, with few decorations. Most showed signs of wear, despite some only being a few years old, and the lawn seemed mowed less frequently than the other parts of the cemetery. Nero almost tripped over a stone in the nearly knee high grass. Muttering an apologetic curse, he continued on. It was obvious that this segment of the graveyard was intended for the less… beloved of the island. The drunks, the criminals, the whoresons. Had his life been slightly different, had Kyrie and her family not given him the stability he so desperately needed, he’d have probably ended up here. Even after the destruction of the Order, and the shake up of Fortuna’s social customs, some things needed much longer to change and adjust.

Finally, his legs soaked by the morning dew, he arrived at a marker. Even though it was small, strangely it looked like it had been cleaned up, the grass around it cut, the stone swept clean of debris. In front, freshly planted, was a potted plant, a pink carnation. And from the stem, fluttering gently in the morning breeze, was a multicoloured braid, similar to the one he carried.

Ahhhh, it made sense now, little Nero had probably wanted to know the fate of his mother…. 

He stood there, shuffling awkwardly. He hadn’t really made a plan for this scenario. He’d hoped that she wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be dead. But in the case that his worst fears had come to pass, he would have cleared up her resting place as a sign of respect. But he’d been beaten to the punch, so to speak, and he was at a loss of what to do next. Perhaps… doing what he did with Credo, just speaking out loud would be nice. Worst case scenario, he’d just be talking to himself.

“Um...hey there,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m...Nero. I mean, you probably knew that, ain’t too many people on this island with white hair at my age..” Oh God, he sounded ridiculous.  
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier, I wasn’t certain if the stories were true, or just ways to make me feel guilty about merely existing. But...I know this is going to sound crazy, and I wouldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen to me, but I met you. I met a different version of you, a reality where you didn’t get killed for protecting me, that you became my mom.” Sheesh, there must be some fog rolling in, because everything was getting misty. “Crazy, I know! But she was a wonderful person, and I doubt that it was just that version that was so caring and loving. You were too, and I never...I never got to say thank you. If there had been a way that you could have been saved....”

He stopped, and took a deep breath, attempting to focus on the braid swaying in the breeze. Little Nero had been here, had to experience the woman he called mother, long gone, her grave neglected and forgotten. The pain would have been indescribable. 

“I would like to...to hope that you’re alright, wherever you are. And that I will be forever grateful 

for what you did to save me...I… Oh God, I must sound like an idiot…”

_“It sounded like it came from the heart, so I believe she would accept it.”_

It only took a quarter of a second, but Nero whipped Blue Rose around, pointing it straight at where the voice came from, his finger already on the trigger.

There, standing casually, was Vergil, his hands gently clasped at his front, not even reacting at the gun being pointed at him.

“JEESH MAN!!” Nero hissed, as he quickly holstered his weapon, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You ought to be more on alert at all times,” came the judgemental reply. “Had I been an aggressive demon, such as a Fury…”

“Well, you weren’t, and how the hell did you get here without getting your pants soaked?”

His father placed his hand on the tsuba of Yamato in response.

“Ah, I should have figured,” Nero huffed, and grumbled, “that’s cheating.”

“It is not cheating when you have the ability,” he calmly retorted, and Nero decided this was neither the time nor (especially the) place to argue about this.

“How… how did you know I was here?” he asked, as he crouched to pluck a weed that was taking advantage of the newly cleared grass.

“I figured that the note on your portable computer-”

“It's called a laptop.”

“Your _laptop_ had gone, so I rightfully assumed I would find you here.” He slowly approached, and stood beside his son. “Nero,” Vergil spoke, obviously referring to the younger version, “asked questions about his mother, and upon arriving here, and Miss Eleison was hesitant to tell him the tale she had heard, but both she and I did some research...and…. We found her…” he motioned to the stone. Vergil looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable as he continued. “He...did not take it well, so Miss Eleison (his dad always referred her by that name, no matter how many times she insisted he call her Kyrie) suggested that we should clear it up. She….she deserves that at least.

Both father and son stood at the grave in silence, each contemplating their own thoughts. Nero was the first to speak.

“I think you would have liked her,” he said softly, and he felt his father stiffen beside him. 

“I doubt she would have liked me, either then, or now.” It was strange to hear the closest to self criticism from someone who seemed as proud and sure of himself as Vergil. For a moment, he sounded more like V. Or when Nero thought about it, more like that other Vergil, the one who had more of a reason to let down that icy guard that his dad felt he could never lower.

“Hm, I don’t think so. She trusted you with me, a baby. You couldn’t have been that bad, no worse than I was at nineteen. You could have just walked away....” He paused. There were questions that he couldn’t bring himself to ask, not yet.

 _“Had I known, I would have taken you from that island..”_ his father spoke, almost in a whisper, and had it not been a quiet morning, Nero might not have heard it at all, _“I would not have abandoned you…”_

Nero chuckled, “I know…” Sure, his dad had a stick in his ass, but even before this whole weird alternate dimension trip, in hindsight he’d known that his father was trying to do the paternal thing, in his own awkward, Vergilesque way. The fact that his alternate version, once the both of them actually talked to each other, was the same way, confirmed his theory.

Both men sank into silence once more, and no doubt both of them were thinking of things that could have been. But alas, unless some demonic magic could send them back into time, they had to follow this path. Not that Nero would even want to change it, not even for the chance to have a family from the start. Meeting Kyrie was enough of a reason to never alter this timeline. 

Nero knelt down, and with careful reverence, he attached the green braid to the stem, alongside its sibling. It wasn’t much, but he’d come back in the future, and talk to her, to tell her that in another life, she was so important to a little white haired boy and his sister. 

“We ought to make our way home now,” Vergil said as he proceeded to cut one of those portals that Nero really wanted to learn how to make, “No doubt Dante will be awake, and I cannot risk having him discuss our activities last night with Miss Kyrie.” (he had used her first name! Well, kind of. Baby steps).

The thought of the brothers drunkenly carousing around Fortuna was enough for Nero to break out in laughter, “Please tell me you used your dad’s reputation to get some free drinks!”

Vergil looked rather offended at the thought, “Your grandfather,” (Nero’s chest felt warm at those two words, _his grandfather_ ) would have been aghast at his sons using his name to procure alcohol free of charge. His father had responded so quickly, Nero suspected that his uncle had already suggested the idea. He started to go through the portal, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Nero…” Vergil said, his face both serious and yet soft. “I know I am the last person who should be giving you advice but,” he took a deep breath, “I have many regrets in my life, but what I regret most of all is not grasping on to a proffered hand. I nearly lost everything due to my stubborn pride.” Nero wasn’t quite sure if he was speaking literally or figuratively. Sometimes he sounded just as ambiguous as that weird ass poet . “My son,” ( _Oh god that warmth in his chest turned into an inferno_ ,) “Promise me that you will never let go.”

If they had a normal relationship, this would have been the perfect time to give his dad a hug, to let him know that as long as Vergil was willing to work on being what Nero knew he could be, Nero would never let go. But not yet, not yet. _But eventually_ … the possibility was there. Instead, he mirrored his father’s action, and placed his hand on Vergil’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry… I ain’t going anywhere, not while I have everything that I value most right here. And yes,” he smiled, “that DOES include you.”

Vergil didn’t quite respond, (and maybe it was the morning light, but his eyes seemed shinier than before), but he gently smiled as he guided Nero through the portal, hand still on his son’s shoulder.

And just before he passed the threshold, Nero could have sworn he felt another presence. Not firm like Credo’s, but a warm soft presence, like being wrapped up in a cashmere blanket….or like being hugged. And for some reason, he felt like it was coming from the gravestone behind them, the carnation, and the pair of braids waving in the morning breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the MASSIVE delay to this story. I bit off more than I could chew, and then my brain came with more AU's and one shots that DEMANDED I write them down. Serves me right for not planning something so audacious. But to all those who have been patiently waiting, I humbly thank you.


End file.
